


Fire and Smoke

by SheppardOfFire



Series: I See Fire [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 111,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheppardOfFire/pseuds/SheppardOfFire
Summary: The fifth installment of the "I See Fire" series. (Season 12-13). [I haven't thought of a summary yet, and at this point, I either have you hooked or you have four whole other books to go back and read. I really don't need to entice you anymore, do I? Anyways, I'll do this later. Enjoy my little half-assed prologue.]
Relationships: OC/Castiel, OC/Lucifer
Series: I See Fire [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/305148
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

_Welcome to the end._

Amara’s words faded, and silence fell upon the old power plant. Alex could hear Sam’s heart racing in his chest, and she pressed herself closer to him as she fought the trembling in her limbs. Her own chest felt hollow, almost too warm for comfort, and the young angel’s broken black wings shuddered as her eyes stretched wide. “Lucifer?” She struggled out of Sams’ lap and pushed herself to shaky feet. “Luce!” Her voice cracked as she spun around, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste. A flash of tan caught her eye, slumped against a concrete pillar, and Alex threw herself forward, narrowly avoiding navy wings as she landed on her knees. “No. No, no, no, no.” Alex pressed her hand up against Castiel’s chest as the seraph’s eyes flickered open. Her grace rushed inwards, pushing past Castiel as it scoured the vessel, giving up only when he gently pushed her hand away. 

“He’s gone.” His voice rasped in his throat, and Alex fell back on her heels as his eyes turned up onto Dean. “Amara ripped him from my body.” 

“Is he … is he dead?” The words caught in Alex’s throat, and her wings trembled as her grace twisted; without Lucifer it felt small and weak. “I can’t feel him anymore.” 

“I don’t know.” Castiel struggled to his feet, and Dean reached down to help him up, leaving Alex to rise on her own. 

Her eyes turned onto Sam, who had moved to kneel at Chuck’s side. Chuck had managed, with Sam’s help, no doubt, to sit up upon the concrete floor. His head was slumped, held in trembling hands, and Alex crept closer as Sam’s hazel eyes sought her out. “Are you, uh …” Sam hesitated, hands resting cautiously on Chuck’s shoulder. “H-How do you feel?” 

Chuck’s response was a low, pained groan. “You know w-when you’re driving and a bug hits the windshield?” He lifted his head to look Sam in the eyes, grimacing at the pain the action brought. “I’m the bug.”

“So what Amara said about you …” 

“Dying.” Chuck nodded, his head dropping back down to his chest, and Sam’s shoulders fell. “Yeah. Whatever Amara did to me … I can feel my spark, my light, fading. And when it’s gone …” A shudder passed through his body, and his face scrunched up in pain. 

“Okay.” Dean looked down at Sam, who offered up a helpless shrug. “Well, t-tell us how to fix you.” 

“You can’t.” Chuck tucked his legs under him, pushing himself to his feet, and Sam scrambled up with him, grunting as Chuck all but collapsed against his shoulder. “I-I-I suppose Amara could, maybe,” Chuck added, “but that’s never gonna happen.” He groaned as Sam readjusted, stooping so he could sling Chuck’s arm over his shoulder.

A door slammed, and Alex whipped around, her heart jumping in her chest. She heard Dean’s gun click, cocked and ready, but the muzzle dropped as he recognized the newcomer. Rowena stepped into sight, a frown upon her angular face; a moment later, Crowley appeared at her side. “Well …” he began, his dark eyes sweeping across them, “that was a complete and utter breakfast, wasn’t it?” 

“I didn’t know dogs had breakfast.” 

Crowley’s lips set in a tight line, and Dean rolled his eyes as he pocketed his gun. “Cas is back,” he announced, and Alex dropped her eyes to the ground as Crowley’s gaze turned upon her. 

“Just curious.” Rowena spoke up, the faint quiver in her tone the only outward sign of her anxiety. “Has anyone bothered to look outside?” 

_Outside?_ Alex glanced up towards the frosted windows with a frown. Dean started towards the door, Castiel close on his heels, and Alex rushed after them. Broken glass shimmered against the pavement, reflecting orange skies, and Alex slowly turned her gaze upwards. The sun burned overhead, a giant orange ball, and the young angel couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up her spine. “What is it?” she heard Dean ask, and she tore her gaze away in time to see Sam’s mouth fall open. 

“It looks like the sun is —”

“Dying.” Castiel and Alex finished Sam’s sentence simultaneously, and Cas’s wings twitched uneasily as Alex’s eyes darted over to him. 

The exchanged went unnoticed by Sam, whose attention remained fixed upon the sky. “Why would Amara do that?” 

“The sun is the source of all life on earth.” Castiel’s eyes were on Alex as he spoke, and the young angel circled around behind him to stand at Sam’s side, her broken wings drawn in tight. “Without it, everything would just … waste away.” 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

No sooner had Dean spoken the words than the world shifted, and the dying sun faded into the bunker’s dark ceiling. A warmth surrounded Alex’s grace, thin and watery, and Alex spun around in search of Chuck. “You …”

“Still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Chuck promised, stepping away from Sam. “I’m not dead y—” His legs collapsed, and he stumbled, catching himself against Sam’s chest. 

“Oh, whoa.” Sam caught him with a grunt. “Okay, I got you.” 

“I should probably sit down.” Chuck’s eyes drifted over to the map table in the middle of the room, and Sam half-led, half-carried him over to the nearest chair. Chuck sunk into the seat, his head falling back as he stifled a low groan. 

“What do we do know?” Castiel’s face darkened as he spoke, and Alex looked around, taking a moment to study Crowley and Rowena. 

No one spoke, and after a few moments, Alex cleared her throat. “Well … we never used that Horn. The Horn of Joshua,” she clarified when Crowley frowned. “I — I mean, it’s not much, but it could get Chuck back on his feet — even just for a bit.” 

She turned to Crowley, and the demon straightened up under the following stares. “Seems worth a shot,” he relented. “I’ll go see if I can dig it up.” 

He vanished, and Alex turned back around in time to watch Dean walk away. “Dean?” She lifted her voice after him, but the Winchester was already out of sight. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Sam hurried after his brother; after a moment, Castiel followed, leaving Alex alone with Chuck and Rowena. 

“Awesome,” Alex muttered. “I’ll just stay here and babysit.” 

A glare towards the witch accompanied her words, and Rowena scoffed. “I hardly think _I’m_ the one who needs to be watched,” she said with a disdainful sniff. “Not to be rude, my Lord, but it seems to me anyone who sides with _Lucifer_ simply can’t be trusted.” 

She looked over at Chuck, searching for agreement, but Chuck merely groaned and dropped his head onto the table. “You’re joking.” Alex’s wings flared as she rounded on Rowena. “You’re the one who let Lucifer out in the first place!” Rowena scoffed, and Alex took a step towards the witch. “There’s only two sides here. It’s us — _all_ of us — versus Amara, so you can just shove it up your —”

“Enough!” Chuck’s hoarse command had her falling silent. “Can you two _please_ stop fighting for just five minutes?” 

Rowena’s apology came quickly in a flourished bow, and she hurried over to Chuck’s side. “Of course, my Lord,” she purred. “Let me see what I can do, hmm?” Her eyes turned onto Alex, hardening as they did so, but her voice stayed light. “What are you standing around for?” she chided. “Go get this poor man a blanket.” 

Alex scowled, but she obeyed, stalking off down the hall towards the nearest bedroom. _Lucifer?_ She sent the prayer up as she paused beside the door, her head tilted upwards towards the ceiling. _Can you hear me? Where are you?_

No answer came, and Alex’s wings fell as she pushed her way into the room. She felt Castiel’s grace shift within her. With Lucifer gone, she was acutely aware of the seraph’s presence; she could feel his anxiety mingling with her own. Her grace rose up against their bond, brushing against the seamless knots that fastened them together. Castiel immediately reacted, drawing back, and Alex pulled away with a sigh. 

Crowley was there when Alex returned, the rusted Horn of Joshua in his hands. “How is he?” he asked, and Alex shrugged as she slung the heavy brown wool blanket over the back of the chair. 

“He’ll be better once he has that.” Rowena pointed at the horn, and Crowley didn’t hesitate to hand it down to Chuck. It took Chuck a moment for his fingers to close around it, but soon the horn started to glow a brilliant white, and even Alex had to shut her eyes as it filled the entire room. And then it faded. 

The horn fell from Chuck’s hands, hitting the table with a clang, and Alex open her eyes. Some of the discomfort had left Chuck’s face, and his eyes seemed brighter, more alert. “Thank you.” His voice was still laced with pain, but it sounded stronger. “I don’t know how much time it bought us, but I feel a bit better.” 

“Okay, good.” Alex flicked a wing up towards the library. “Let’s get you up there. It’s a hell of a lot more comfortable.” She helped Chuck to his feet, stifling a grunt as his hands grabbed onto her broken wings for support. “Listen.” The word came out as a hiss, and Alex took a moment to regain control of her voice as she started towards the library stairs. “Lucifer …” 

“He’s alive,” Chuck said, and Alex’s wings trembled. “I don’t know where he is or how badly he’s hurt, but I know he’s out there somewhere.” He collapsed into the nearest chair with a low groan, and Alex stepped aside as Rowena bustled her out of the way. Her wings brushed up against Crowley’s shoulder, and Alex yanked them back with a huff. 

“There you go.” Rowena draped the heavy blanket over Chuck’s shoulders. “I’ll put the kettle on, Charles. My mom always said there’s nothing a nice wee cup of tea can’t fix.” Her hand ghosted across Chuck’s back as she spoke, and Alex caught sight of Crowley mouthing along to his mother’s words, his lips pulled up in a mocking sneer. He picked up a square glass bottle that sat beside a bookshelf, and the sneer turned into a scowl as he sniffed at the whiskey inside. Their eyes met as he set the bottle down, and Alex flicked her wing towards the wooden cabinet on the other side of the room. 

Rowena exited the library, the clicking of her heels against the stone fading into the distance. It was only then that Crowley spoke, crossing over to the cabinet. “She’s using you. It’s what she does. Find someone with power … cozies up … digs the claws in.” He pulled out a bottle of bourbon, his lips pursing in a small frown. 

Chuck merely hummed as he shrugged off the blanket and set it across the chair next to him. “Yeah, well, I’m not helping anyone right now.” 

Crowley scoffed, and he pulled out to glasses, their clinking echoing through the stone room. “For now.” 

“Now’s kind of all we got.” 

“Whatever.” Crowley set the glasses down down on the table with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not calling you Dad.” He poured two drinks and sat down, sliding the second glass across the table as he motioned for Alex to join him. The angel obliged, sinking down into her chair. A door slammed above their heads, and Alex looked up, her wings rising curiously. “What’d you hear?” 

“Someone’s leaving.” Alex flicked her grace upwards. “Dean and Cas,” she confirmed, quickly drawing her grace away from the seraph. “Wonder where they’re going.” 

From Crowley’s grunt, it was clear the demon was less than interested. “Must be nice having Cas back,” he began, swirling his drink, and Alex’s fingers tightened around her glass. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you were there when he all but dumped my ass,” she muttered, and she slammed back half of her drink, wishing the alcohol would do more than just burn at her throat. 

“Hm. Sounds vaguely familiar. If I recall, I was distracted by your boyfriend and his temper.” Crowley’s face momentarily darkened, and he took a drink. “Next time we hang out, kitten, try and keep him under control.” 

“You’re talking like there’s gonna be a next time.” Alex’s eyes turned upwards to the ceiling that hid the dying sun from view. “I always forget you’re such an optimist.” 

Crowley lifted an eyebrow from behind his glass. “And you’re not?” 

“I try to be, but … how are we supposed to fix the fucking _sun_?” Alex settled back in her chair with a sigh. “Look, I got an extra seven years out of life. If this is how it ends, then I guess I got more than I deserved.” She cast Chuck a sideways look, half expecting him to speak, but his eyes were focused off in the distance. 

She fell silent as Rowena returned, a silver tray balanced in her hands. “Here we go.” Cups clattered as she set the tray down, and Chuck blinked as Rowena poured his tea. “Nothing better than a hot cup of tea when you’re feeling down, hmm?” Her smile widened as Chuck murmured his thanks, and she filled her own cup before settling down at the table. “Did I miss anything?” 

Her eyes swept over to Crowley and Alex, and the young angel shrugged. “Just talking about you-know-what.” A finger pointed upwards accompanied her words, and Rowena _tsked_. 

“Now that’s no way to lighten the mood,” she chided, waggling a finger before she sighed. “Still, I suppose it is bound to be a topic of conversation. Who would have thought that my son and I would live to see the end of the world, hmm? Sometimes it still feels like yesterday when we were back in Canisbay.” Rowena sipped her tea, a smile upon her face, and Alex watched Crowley scowl. “Fergus was a bright child, you know. Walked before his first birthday, but he hated wearing pants. Hated them. He’d run ‘round the village, his wee banger just flapping in the breeze.” 

Alex sniggered, hiding it behind her glass as she finished her drink, and Chuck heaved a sigh. “Adam and Eve were the same way. Kids.” 

Rowena echoed him, and Crowley slouched down in his seat, his scowl darkening. “I’m so glad the world is ending.” His eyes turned past his mother, and he lifted the bottle of bourbon up into the air. “Samantha!” 

Alex twisted in her seat to see Sam standing in the library entrance. “W-What are you guys doing?” he asked, and his eyes sought out Alex as his lips pursed. 

She shrugged, mouth open to respond, but Rowena beat her to it. “Nothing.” 

Sam’s gaze swung onto the witch. “Exactly!” he snapped, walking up to the row of tables. “Amara is out there eating the fucking sun, and — and we’re doing nothing.” 

“Well, what would you prefer us to do?” Alex reached for the bottle in Crowley’s hands with a flick of her wings. “Because if you have got a better idea, we’re all ears.” 

“Yeah, actually, I do: anything.” Sam jabbed his finger against the table. “That’s my better idea, because anything is better than this!” 

“Sam.” Chuck’s weary voice had the Winchester drawing in a slow, controlled breath. “I get it. But even if we could lock Amara away, it wouldn’t do anything good now. I’m dying, and when I’m gone, the cosmic balance of light and dark — it’s over.” 

Sam’s shoulders rolled back as he looked around the room, and Alex poured her drink with a small shake of her head. “Alright.” He slammed his hands down on the table, and the impact rattled her newly-filled glass. “Then if we can’t cage her, we have to kill her.” 

Alex looked around the room, expecting dissent, but she only found uneasy glances. Chuck was slumped in his seat, but when even he didn’t protest, Alex heaved a sigh, her head tilting back to look up and the ceiling. “Okay, fine. But you better call Dean.”

**F** ootsteps echoed in the hall, and Alex lifted her head towards the source as her grace crept outwards. “They’re here,” she announced even as Crowley cleared his throat. It took a moment, but Dean and Castiel soon stepped into sight, their eyes turning across the crowded library. Alex’s finger toyed with the side of her glass as Castiel’s gaze momentarily landed on her, and she quickly diverted her attention downwards as his wings drew back. 

“So.” Dean spoke as he ascended the stairs. “Now you want to kill the Darkness?” He stopped in front of Chuck, his arms folded across his chest. “You’re cool with this? Cause, you know, last time …” 

“Look.” Sam rose to his feet from where he had been sitting at Alex’s side. “Chuck’s dying — uh, no offense, God,” he added with a glance over at Chuck, and Alex snorted. 

“Yeah, no, I’m dying.” Chuck shifted in his seat, a movement immediately followed by a low groan. “So, we really don’t have a choice. I mean, look, y-you’ve got darkness and light. You take one side away a-and —”

“It upsets the scale,” Castiel finished, and Chuck nodded. “The whole balance of the universe.” 

“Exactly.” Sam circled around the table to stand at his brother’s side. “But if you take both away, and now both sides are empty, so … it’s balanced.” 

“Right,” Dean agreed, but his face stayed dark. “Yes, okay, uh, and look — hey, I’m game. But how exactly are we gonna do this? I mean, cause Lucifer hit her with a — with a Hand of God, and, well, we saw how that turned out.” Silence followed his words, and Dean’s boots scuffled against the ground as he hesitated. “Look, maybe if I talk with her —”

He cut off when Alex scoffed. “ _Talk_?” she repeated. “I’m pretty sure we’re miles past talking, Dean.” Dean’s mouth fell open, his eyes narrowed, and Alex pushed herself to her feet. “This isn’t Star Trek, Roddenberry! You can’t just talk your way to a peaceful solution. Amara doesn’t want to play ball, which means we need to take her out. That’s just what we do.” 

“Alright, fine!” Dean’s nostrils flared. “Then how do you suggest we kill her, huh?” 

Alex fell silent, her feathers ruffled and arms crossed, and Castiel cleared his throat as the silence lengthened. “She does seem impossible to destroy.” 

He turned his eyes onto Chuck, and Alex did the same. “Well,” Chuck began, shifting beneath their stares, “actually, I, uh … I mean, well …” 

“Chuck!” Sam and Dean spoke simultaneously, and Rowena chimed in with a sharp, “Charles!” 

“Alright. Fine.” Reluctance weighed down Chuck’s voice, and he paused to sigh. “The Darkness might — might have a weakness.” He pushed himself to his feet with a pained grunt. His legs trembled, but he managed to stay upright as he crossed the room to take the half-empty bottle of bourbon from Crowley. “Light.” 

“Now he tells us,” Crowley muttered, reluctantly relinquishing the bottle, and Chuck frowned. 

“What?” he defended, and Alex’s lips pursed in a frown. “I — I just wanted to trap her, not _murder_ her.” He limped back over to his seat, grabbing a glass on the way. 

“I suppose that makes sense.” Alex drew her legs up under her with a thin frown. “But I’m guessing that when you say light, you don’t just mean a handful of LEDs. I mean, she’s killing the _sun_ right now without even batting an eye. How much light would it take to put her down?” 

“I don’t know.” Chuck shook his head as he poured himself a drink. “Probably ten thousand suns set to supernova.” 

“And let me guess — you can’t exactly conjure them up at the moment, can you?” Chuck shook his head, and Alex’s shoulders fell. “Well, time for plan B —”

“What about souls?” Castiel suddenly spoke up, and Alex’s wings flittered at how his eyes turned onto her, resting only a moment before moving on. “They fuel demon deals.” He waited for Crowley to grunt before he continued. “Souls are living batteries. They’re full of energy — they’re full of light. Each one is as powerful as … one hundred suns?” 

“He’s not wrong.” Rowena straightened up in her seat. “If you get me enough souls … I can build a bomb.” 

Alex bit back a scornful laugh at the idea, but Dean’s eyes hesitantly lit up. “Would that do the trick?” he asked Chuck, and when Chuck nodded, Dean turned back to Rowena. “Okay, great. How many souls are we talking here?” 

Alex’s chair scraped against the ground as she pushed herself to her feet. “Alright, well, you guys have fun with your, um, ‘soul bomb.’ Me, I think I’m going to go find Lucifer.” She started towards the door, but Dean was there to block her path. 

“Really?” he snapped. “We’re trying to save the damn _universe_ here, and you’re going to go after _him_?” Alex moved to sidestep him, but Dean caught her by the shoulder and pushed her back. “Get your —”

“Don’t fucking touch me, Winchester!” Alex knocked Dean’s hand away, and the force sent him stumbling back towards Castiel. “You guys want to — to go chase down souls a-and ghosts and whatnot? Sure, go ahead. You don’t need me for that. Me, I’m going to go find what happens to be the strongest person on our side!” 

Her wings rose up, ready to fight as Dean stalked towards her, but Crowley lifted his voice. “That’s enough, both of you!” Dean pulled up short, and Alex spun around with a snarl. “Alex, a word.” His fingers crooked, and Alex’s feet instinctively carried her towards him, her wings falling down. It took three steps for her to stop, her feathers ruffling to find herself obeying, but Crowley merely beckoned her forward again. 

With a huff, Alex followed him to the back of the library and past the curtains that hid the large telescope from view. She felt the air change around her; a quick glance at Crowley confirmed that he was the one responsible. “Listen,” she started, her words still as sharp as ever, “if you think you can convinced me to stay here, you’re gonna —”

“Lower your claws, kitten. I’m not here to talk you out of it.” Crowley clicked his tongue, and Alex glanced back towards the library. “They can’t hear us. Trust me, if I was going to chew you out, I’d let them listen in.” He chuckled, a low dry sound that quickly dissipated. “No. I _want_ you to find Lucifer.” 

“Wait.” Alex tore her gaze away from Dean. “Really?” 

Crowley scoffed. “You think I want Lucifer wandering around unsupervised?” he retorted. “He’s a menace and right now, you’re the only one he’ll listen to. I’m sure Dean would agree if he could see beyond the fact that you’re dicking him down.” Alex’s jaw ticked, and Crowley rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t judge. You like men who take control, he thrives on taking control away from others. It’s a match made … somewhere.” 

“Alright, alright, I get it. We’re adorable.” Alex forced her wings down with a huff. “Now that I’ve got your blessing, I’m going to go get my things.” Her wings flicked, and she stalked back out into the library. Dean hadn’t moved, and Alex shouldered her way past him to reach the hall. She heard footsteps following, slow and steady, and Alex’s feathers rustled as she rounded the corner. The door to her bedroom came into sight, and she quickened her pace, intent on reaching it before her tail could catch up. 

She pushed her way through the door and thrust it shut behind her. It didn’t slam; Castiel’s foot had caught in the doorway, and Alex turned, wings rising defensively. “Dean sent you to talk me out of it, didn’t he?” 

“Yes.” Castiel gently closed the door behind him; despite the neutrality in his eyes, Alex could feel how his grace twisted anxiously. “But it doesn’t matter what I say. I can see nothing will stop you.” 

“No, it won’t.” Alex grabbed her bag off of the floor and tossed it onto the bed, crossly throwing her laptop into the bottom of it. She felt Castiel watch her, and her feathers prickled uncomfortably as she packed. The silence grew, broken only by the rustling of her clothes, and finally the young angel spun around. “Did you mean it? When you —”

She cut off, her teeth clacking as she clamped her jaw shut, and Castiel’s wings drooped. “I think … Alex, you and I both knew this wasn’t going to work. I kept telling myself that if I just gave you what you wanted, or if I maybe just let it go, that it would get better, but the problem wasn’t what I was doing, was it? The problem was me.” 

Alex scoffed even as her heart plummeted from her chest. “The problem was _me_ ,” she retorted before her voice softened. “I’m not the same person I was five years ago. Back then, it worked. But now …” She shook her head, stifling a sigh as she swung her bag over her shoulder. “You’re a good guy, Cas. Don’t forget that. And if you need anything, don’t be afraid to give me a call.” 

She patted the seraph on the shoulder as she stepped past, and she felt him turn as she reached for the door. “Alex.” Alex paused, and she saw Castiel’s wings stretch outwards. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” Alex’s wings lifted ever so slightly, and she heard clothes rustled as he stepped closer. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. Lucifer — he’s not _sick_. You can’t cure him like he’s — like he’s got a cold.” Castiel’s voice rose, swelling with anger, and Alex’s fingers froze around the door knob. 

“I know.” The lie caught in her throat, and Alex pulled open the door. “Don’t worry about me.” 

She paused just inside the hallway, waiting to see if Castiel would follow, but when the seraph remained still, she made her way back to the library. 

Dean hadn’t moved from where he stood beside the library tables, his arms still crossed and his green eyes darkened several shades. Alex felt her steps falter as all eyes turned onto her, and she turned her head away as she adjusted her bag across her shoulder. “Alright, I’m going to head out.” Her voice didn’t quaver, and she forced her feet to carry her at a steady, confident pace across the floor. Her wings prickled at the stares on her back, and the metal stairs creaked beneath her weight as she ascended. “Call me if this whole thing pans out or not.”

"If you leave out that door, you're not walking back through." Dean's words had her stopping, her hand outstretched for the door. "You hear me? You’re choosing Lucifer over us, and there's no coming back from that!" 

"Dean!" Sam's voice rose, one hand going out to grab his brother's shoulder. "You don't mean that." 

"Yeah, Sam, I do. This is important, and she's leaving because — because —” Dean cut off, nostrils flaring as he let out a harsh breath. 

Alex wings twitched crossly, and she yanked open the door. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.” She paused, one foot hovering over the threshold, but Dean didn’t call her back. 

“Alex!” Sam shouted out her name as she stepped outside, but it was lost beneath the sound of the heavy bunker door slamming shut. Alex ascended the metal stairs, and her grace snapped open to unlock the doors to the Marquis. She threw her bag into the backseat, her wings rising as she heard the bunker door open. “Alex, wait!” Sam jumped up the stairs, and Alex turned, jaw squared for another fight. “Please, wait.” 

“Look, Sam, I know what you’re going to say and I —”

“It’s okay.” Sam circled around the car to stand in front of her; the dying sun cast harsh shadows upon his angular face. “Don’t listen to Dean, okay? You’re always welcome back here. This is your home.” Alex shrugged, turning to go, but Sam caught her by the shoulder. “Look, Dean — he was right about one thing. Killing Amara, that’s our priority.”

“Yeah, Sam. But your plan — you’re trying to build a _bomb_ using _souls_. That’s crazy! No. It’s beyond crazy, okay? And even — even if you managed to somehow find and capture a thousand-some souls to kill her — which may or may not be enough according to Chuck — how are you going to contain them? Look what happened to Cas when he opened Purgatory!” Sam opened his mouth, but Alex pushed onwards, her voice rising. “And how are you even going to get close enough to Amara to use it, huh? She won’t let us anywhere near her anymore.”

“I know, but it’s the only shot we have —”

Alex snorted, her shoulders tensing as her wings rose. “Oh, trust me, I get that. But you guys don’t need me for this. You have Chuck and Castiel and Crowley — hell, even Rowena. You don’t need me. So let me go and get the one person who’s stronger than all of them, because …” Alex paused, her wings drawing back in as she searched for a reason, any reason that wasn’t _because I need him_. “Because _we_ might need him,” she finally finished. “And I need to find him.” 

Sam’s shoulders fell, his face dancing on the edge of acceptance and disappointment. “Okay,” he finally relented. “I get it.” 

“Okay.” Alex reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, her fingers brushing against the coarse material of his jacket. “And if this all works out … I’ll see you on the other side.” Sam’s eyes darkened, and she curled a wing forward as she forced a strained note of humor into her voice. “I don’t want to have to come back and save your ass as soon as this is all over.” She thumped Sam on the shoulder before she pulled back, the humorous facade falling away as she circled around to the front seat of her car. “I’ll see you around, Sam.” Silence met her words, broken only by the roaring of the engine, and Alex watched Sam disappear in the rearview mirror as she drove the Marquis away from the bunker.


	2. Keep Calm and Carry On

**April 3rd, 2016**  
**Collingsburg, Pennsylvania**

**A** crack of thunder split the darkened sky, opening up the heavens and sending its torrent down upon the roof of the 1971 Mercury Marquis. Raindrops rolled down the pale blue paint, pausing to gather upon the rusty wheel wells before falling onto the cracked pavement below. The car inside was dry; the tan, sun-cracked leather creaked beneath its occupant’s weight, a sound that was lost beneath the idle hum of the engine and the soft thrum of the speakers. 

It was parked, its balding tires brushing against the concrete curb that lined the suburban street. Most of the surrounding houses were dark and silent; occasionally, headlights would cut through the rain as a car rolled past, an early commuter on their way to work. None of them took notice of the old Marquis. 

Alex sat in the front seat, her black wings pressed between her back and the leather interior. The feathers, once full and soft, had been stripped to little beside the bare vanes which dug into her skin, itching through her clothes. Her fingers gripped the keys, still sitting inside the ignition, but her eyes were fixed upon the house across the street. It was the only home with the lights on; if Alex focused, she could see the shadows of a figure moving behind the drawn blinds. She knew who that person was — her grace told her that much, but she hadn’t yet dared reach out far enough to brush against him. _If you leave out that door, you’re not walking back through._ Dean Winchester’s promise still sat in her throat, cold and bitter. _You’re choosing Lucifer over us, and there's no coming back from that._

With a shiver, Alex pulled the keys free, and the engine spluttered to a stop, plunging the car into silence. A gust of wind rattled her feathers as she stepped out into the torrent, and Alex narrowed her eyes against the downpour as she hurried towards the house, her thin and empty wings doing little to shield her from the rain. The twenty steps that took her to the porch were enough to soak her to the skin, and the young angel brushed her sopping hair out of her eyes. 

The door was unlocked. It swung open as her fingertips brushed across the brass knob, and Alex hung back as she felt the air twist. Her hesitation lasted only a moment before she jumped inside, urged forward by the sudden wind that pummeled cold, stinging raindrops against her back. 

She heard the door slam behind her, an impact that rattled the walls, and her wings twitched. Her grace writhed within her; fear held her back, but a greater desperation drove her inwards. A mirror hung in the hallway and Alex paused, frowning at her reflection. The rain had turned her blonde hair brown, and the wind had tossed and tangled it into a matted mess. Grey eyes glittered beneath the disarray, and Alex quickly turned away, combing hasty fingers through the locks to try and salvage her appearance. 

Her canvas shoes squeaked against the wooden floor as she delved further into the home, and she paused beside the doorway that led into the front room. The overhead lights were on, their yellow glow warm in contrast to the storm's black cold. A figure stood in the corner. The face was unfamiliar; blue eyes sat above an angular jaw and pointed chin. The shadow of a black beard showed upon the cheeks, a shade or two darker than the mop of hair upon his head. What _was_ familiar was the crimson wings that lay folded across his back: stretched out, they could have easily spanned the entire room. "It took you awhile to come inside." The strange voice had Alex hesitating, and one wing curled forward as Lucifer smiled; the grin felt far too cold for that face. "It's just me." 

"I know." Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to steady it. "I just didn't want to go out in the storm." Alex felt his grace stretch forward through the air, a curious probe, and she reached out to meet it with her own. She could feel the change the moment they touched; Lucifer's frozen grace flooded inwards, and her eyes glowed red with his power, fading as the rush of ice subsided. A yelp hung in the air; was it hers? 

It was definitely hers. Lucifer hadn't moved, his lips pressed together as he watched her. His grace was back in place, tucked within her where it was supposed to be. She pressed into it, gently feeling where its hooks had dug into her: the perch felt … precarious, balanced on the edge and moments away from slipping into oblivion. She stepped forward, but something caught against her foot, something soft and heavy, and she stumbled. A body lay on the floor, already cold. The face was unrecognizable; the flesh was charred, and empty sockets stared up at the stipple brush ceiling. It was clearly a man, and the body just beyond that was a female, several years older. "Right.” Lucifer’s thoughtful eyes followed hers. “Apparently no one in this family is strong enough to hold me for long.” His wing flicked out, skating over the bodies. “Those two burned through quickly. This one seems to be lasting a bit longer." He motioned her forward with a crooked finger, and Alex skirted the corpses with a frown. "But it won't last forever." 

Alex drew closer, and she could see the faint fissures that were starting to tear through his exposed skin. "How are you feeling?" She reached out to put a hesitant hand upon his chest, grace pressing up against his. There was a moment of resistance before it opened up, letting her inside. "I — I was scared Amara had killed you." 

"I think she tried." Cold fingers brushed against her cheek, and Alex's head tipped up with a soft hum. "Luckily, she was still weak, and I was ripped out.” The touch pulled away. “Well? Did Dad manage to lock her away or, uh …" His eyes flickered towards the window, and Alex's shoulders fell as wind rattled the windows. 

"No. Chuck is …” Alex’s mouth dried, and she paused to wet her lips under Lucifer’s stare. “Chuck is dying. Amara — she did something to him." Her hand moved from his chest to grab his wrist, tugging him away from the wall. "The Winchesters are building — like a bomb or something, but I don't know if they can do it without you —”

Lucifer's face exploded into light. Alex flinched away as his grace spilled outwards, coiling through the air. The temperature instantaneously dropped, leaving her last breath hanging frozen in the air, and Alex's feathers puffed out as the light faded. The vessel whose hand she had been holding collapsed, faceless, to the wooden floor, and Alex stepped back as a dead arm hit the ground where her feet had just been. "Lucifer?" She spoke the name out loud, listening as it reverberated through the empty house. She felt along his grace, tightly coiled around Castiel's, and a voice carried through the air as if an answer, a soft and barely-there whisper. Alex turned towards the noise just as a white light flooded from the stairs, and Lucifer's grace hummed within her. There was a moment of silence, and then footsteps echoed through the wooden beams above her head. 

They were lighter than Alex expected, and the young angel tipped her head as they approached. She knew it was Lucifer — the wings, as always, made identification obvious — but she didn't expect a child to step into sight. The girl was small, no taller than five feet, and the oversized crimson wings that spilled from her slim shoulders only exaggerated her unimposing height. "Sorry." Lucifer shook out his feathers with a thin scowl, and Alex's eyes dropped down onto the primaries, which dragged along the floor. "What were you saying?" 

"I-I — uh …" Alex cleared her throat, searching for her old train of thought. "The Winchesters. They can't kill Amara on their own. You — I'm sorry. Where did uh, _she_ come from?" 

"Upstairs. I kept her unconscious and subdued once I had her consent." Lucifer's lips twisted into a frown, a look that appeared more as a pout than anything else. "Vessel hopping isn't easy, but I'm trying to make the most of it." He stepped over the bodies as he approached, and Alex shifted back as he stopped in front of her. 

Her wings flittered as she looked down into the round, feminine face, and it wasn't long before she had to turn her eyes away. "What are you gonna do about … this?" Alex motioned down to the three bodies that lay around them. "You can't just leave them here." 

"I'll have the demons take care of it." Lucifer waved a dismissive hand, and Alex's shoes scuffed against the floor as she stepped back. "I'm more worried about who you might have on your tail." 

Alex's feather ruffled. "No one," she retorted. "Everyone's too busy with Amara. Besides, Crowley all but sent me after you, so I don't know why he'd follow me." 

The scoff that emerged from Lucifer’s throat was high-pitched, and the singsong voice juxtaposed his obvious scorn so much so that it had Alex scrubbing at her head. "Maybe because you're the only one who stands a chance of finding me, and he wants nothing more than to stuff me back downstairs while I'm still weak." Lucifer's hand came up to rest on her chest, and Alex stared down at the painted nails. "Castiel could still follow you." His grace tugged upon her mate’s, and Alex grunted as it suddenly swelled, flooding through her and pulling taut on the bond. There was a yank, and then the warmth of Cas’ grace dissipated into cold. "There. He’ll still be able to feel you, but he can't trace you or see through your eyes." Lucifer's grace pulled back, and the hand fell away. "That's all I can do from out here. If you want to get rid of his grace … well, you know how." White teeth flashed in a grin behind pink lips, and Alex's wings flicked before she could stop them. 

"Yeah, uh … can we maybe have this conversation when you're _not_ wearing a twelve year old girl?" Alex sidestepped Lucifer and jumped over the bodies to stand in the middle of the room, giving herself plenty of distance from the archangel. "Actually … let's just table this until you're in a more permanent vessel." 

Lucifer's eyes dropped down to his slim hands, where the skin had already started to fissure. "This vessel won't last long." His wings trembled, and Alex felt his grace warm ever so slightly. "Wait here until I find a new one. And then ditch the car." Green eyes turned out the window. "No one can follow you." 

"My car? I don't —”

The vessel’s eyes burned away as Lucifer was expelled, and Alex ducked as the archangel's grace swarmed through the air. For one brief moment, it enveloped her, plunging her into a blanket of ice so cold that it burned hot against her very being. Then it was gone, and with it the light, leaving Alex standing alone in the room as it plunged back into darkness. Thunder rumbled above her, and lightning cracked, illuminating the bodies at her feet; the girl’s face was smouldering, wisps of smoke rising from cracked and charred skin. With a huff, Alex turned away from the corpse, flicking her wing in feigned disinterest. Lucifer’s promise of — wait. Lucifer. Thunder cracked again, and Alex’s grace plunged inwards, twisting in frantic circles as it searched for his grace. His expulsion had all but ripped it away; only the faintest trace remained, clinging onto the knot where she and Castiel were bonded. She swiped a hand through her hair — the chill of Lucifer as he had left had stiffened the wet strands — and she started towards the door. If she left now she could get a headstart: there was no telling how far away Lucifer would have to go. 

**T** he storm had given way by midmorning, leaving behind a grey and cloudy sky. A cold wind still cut through the air, whipping at Alex's hair, and the angel shivered. Her wings were curled around her, the bare and broken vanes spread to hide as much of her from the dawn's chill as possible. The metal bench beneath her sucked the heat from her flesh with no regard for the denim that served as a barrier between her skin and the outside world. 

A bus rumbled in the distance, and Alex's head lifted, searching for the source with eyes as gray as the morning sky. The bus roared past the small covered stop, kicking up muddy water in its wake, and the young angel slouched back in her seat as the droplets splattered against her boots. "Dammit." She muttered the curse under her breath, reaching down to brush the mud away. "Why couldn’t I just drive my own car?" Her hands slid up her jeans, resting on the front pocket to trace the outline of her keys. In the end, she had disregarded Lucifer's command to abandon the car in the neighborhood; currently, the Marquis sat tucked away one state over beside an abandoned cabin, one of Bobby Singer's safehouses. Even though the old hunter was long gone, the cabins scattered across the country remained, safe havens for any hunters passing through. 

A second bus appeared on the horizon, its blue paint gleaming as the clouds above parted, revealing the first hints of blue skies and a white sun — Alex jumped to her feet, her head craned upwards. The sun. It had lost its orange, burning hue, and the sky was clear on the horizon. "Son of a …" Alex's fingers closed around her phone, and they had dialed Sam's number before she had even realized the phone was up against her ear. It rang, and then rang again, and Alex frowned when all she reached was his voicemail. If they had —

"Hey!" A horn blared, jerking Alex out of her thoughts. The bus had stopped in front of her, its doors open wide. "Are you getting on or not?" 

With a muttered apology to the red-faced driver, Alex climbed aboard, brushing her hand against the card reader; her grace rushed outwards, and the machine beeped, flashing green as she passed. The bus itself was nearly empty; a gentleman sat near the front, a newspaper in his hands, and two young men were slumped near the back. Alex didn't need her grace to tell they were hungover. Their eyes were glazed, and even from where she stood, the smell of stomach bile and alcohol was strong. The bus’ doors closed with a hiss, and Alex sunk into an empty seat equidistant from the other occupants. She turned her attention down onto her phone as the bus lurched forward. Calling Dean was out of the question; even if he did answer, dealing with the scorn was more than Alex felt up to. With a reluctant sigh, she scrolled down in search of Castiel's name. 

His number popped up before she even reached it, and Alex jumped to answer the incoming call. "Cas, hey. I was just about to call you. I saw the sky, but when I called Sam —”

"You called Sam?” The desperation that sharpened Castiel's voice had Alex frowning. "Did you talk with him?" 

"What? No, he didn't answer. Why?" Alex leaned forward in her seat, her eyes narrowing as her feathers prickled. She prodded at Castiel’s grace within her, and concern bubbled forth, spilling into her chest. “Cas? Is he okay?" 

The worried grace reined itself back in, sinking down and out of sight. "I don't know. After we sent Dean to Amara with Rowena's bomb, Sam and I returned to the bunker. Someone was there waiting for us. A woman." Frustration dragged Castiel's voice down into a growl. "I didn't get a good look at her before she activated a banishing sigil. I was cast to the other side of the state." He paused, and Alex heard a low female voice in the background. "Dean and I — Dean is alive, thank God — we're in Eudora looking for him now." 

"Wait." Alex's wings curled forward, but a more pressing question sat upon her tongue. "Why wouldn't Dean be alive?" 

"He wasn’t just carrying Rowena's bomb,” Castiel rasped, and Alex’s jaw ticked. “He _was_ the bomb. She put the souls into him. If he had detonated it, it would have killed him, too." 

Alex's face scrunched up as she looked out the window; the sun was back, peeking through grey clouds. "But Amara — the sun's back to normal. Didn't Dean kill her?" She tore her eyes away, slouching down and lowering her voice as she heard the hungover couple stir in their seats. "If she's not — then Chuck —”

"Is alive," Castiel finished impatiently. "Yes, and now he and Amara are gone. To talk, Dean says. I can explain it all later. Where are you?" 

"Pennsylvania. Headed south." 

Silence met her words, and Alex’s grace shifted, dancing around, but not touching, where she and the seraph were bonded. As his lack of response dragged, she reluctantly prodded him, stirring his grace back to life. "How quickly can you get here?” he finally asked. “Dean doesn't want your help, but …" Cas cut off with a tight exhale, and Alex imagined his nostrils flaring, face darkened. "It's my fault that Sam is gone, and we don't know how much time he may have. I hate asking you for help, but we need all that —”

"No, don't worry about it." Alex cut him off, shaking of her head even as she felt her heart drop. He _hated?_ "Of course I'll help, Cas. I can be there by —” Wings fluttered, and Alex felt Lucifer's grace envelop her, and she gasped as it sunk its fangs into her bones, curling up inside her belly. A body had appeared in the seat next to her, and Alex caught a glimpse of crimson from the corner of her eye. "Uh, scratch that, I can be there as soon as you tell me exactly where you are." 

"He's there, isn't he?" Castiel's question was lost beneath Lucifer's, "Who's that?" 

Alex shifted her phone to her other ear, her now free hand pushing against Lucifer's shoulder to keep him from leaning even closer. "Just text me the address," she told Cas, barely waiting for the seraph's agreement before she hung up. "Sam's in trouble. I need you to take me to, uh —” Her phone dinged, and she looked down at the text, — “to this outdoor market in Eudora, Kansas." Alex looked up into Lucifer's brown eyes, and she reached up to tuck blond hair behind his ear. "Cas is there waiting for me." Lucifer's face darkened, and Alex took a moment to study the unfamiliar creases before she scoffed. "No, not like that. Him and I … that's over with." Something in her chest twisted, sadness perhaps, but it was quickly vanquished by Lucifer's grace. "But he needs my help, and you — you're just biding time until you can find a more permanent vessel, so I thought …" 

Cold hands grabbed her jaw, pulling her up into a kiss, and Alex froze as unfamiliar lips moved against hers. She hummed as teeth nipped at her bottom lip, but the buzzing of her phone had her head jerking back, hand planting against his chest to keep Lucifer from following. “Please, Luce. Can you take me there? If you’re not strong enough …” 

Strong enough?” Feathers rustled indignantly, brushing against her back as the devil scoffed. “That’s not the problem. The question is, why would I take you there? Somehow I don’t think they’d appreciate my help.” 

“Well … it’s probably best if you don’t stick around long enough for them to tell you that.” Alex lifted her head up above the seats, but the bus’ other occupants paid them no attention. “I’m already in hot enough water with Dean, and I think you and Cas should probably stay apart for now.” 

She expected an argument, but Lucifer’s head just tilted back in a laugh. “I don’t need you to protect me.” His hands grabbed her wrists, and Alex was jerked out of her seat as his wings carried them up into the air. The grey clouds vanished as they crossed the country, leaving only sun behind. Lucifer slowed as they neared the ground, and Alex caught sight of a flash of tan through the trees on the edge of the market’s clearing. _There_. Her grace pushed against Lucifer’s, directing him down, and the next second, her feet were touching soft grass. 

Castiel’s feathers rustled in the wind of their landing, and he turned. “Thank you for coming,” he began; his face was turned towards Alex, but even still, his eyes kept darting over to Lucifer. “We —”

Lucifer’s grace hummed, warming, and Alex’s sidestepped moments before his vessel lit up and burned away, expelling the archangel into the air. He disappeared almost immediately, taking off into the sky, and Alex watched him go through squinted eyes. “Sorry,” she apologized as the empty vessel fell, and Castiel stepped back to avoid it. “He’s been doing that a lot lately.” Her grace twisted, first with disappointment and then with nerves; Lucifer’s grace was gone again, leaving her alone and unprotected.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice rang through the air, sharp and loud, and both angels turned the source. The Winchester stopped as he stepped into view, gun in hand, and dark eyes flickered between the two of them before dropping down onto the dead body. “We saw the light.” His voice tightened, clipped and terse, as his shoulders drew back. “What the hell happened? What’s she doing here?” 

The question was directed at Castiel, but Alex stepped forward to answer before he could. “Lucifer burned through another vessel. Don’t worry, he’s gone now,” she added as the Winchester scowled, and she lifted her chin; under his glare, the lack of Lucifer’s grace sat like a hole in her chest. “I’m here to find Sam. Cas said that someone took him.” 

“You called her?” Dean’s green eyes flashed as he stalked forward, and Castiel’s jaw set. “I told you, we don’t need —”

“This isn’t about you and her, Dean,” Castiel retorted, and for a second, his wings rose up, arching high above his head before he drew them back in. “This is about Sam. It’s ridiculous to not use all the help we can get.” 

“I — I’m sorry.” A voice broke into the bickering, and for the first time, Alex noticed the woman who stood at Dean’s side. She was almost a head taller than Alex, and over ten years her senior, but the young angel couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity at the sight of the blonde hair and round face. “Who is she?” 

“I’m a friend,” Alex retorted. “Who the hell are you?” The woman blinked, and Alex forced her wings to lie flat; she hadn’t meant to snap, but Dean’s anger had already managed to crawl so far under her skin that she hadn’t noticed the placidity in the stranger’s voice until it was too late. She cast a scowl towards the Winchester, a look he caught just as he was turning away. 

“Uh, Mom, this is Alex.” Dean nodded towards Alex. The gesture was sharp, but the angel paid it no attention; she was too busy mouthing the word ‘mom?’ “Alex, Mary.” 

“Mary as in Mary Winchester?” Alex shoved her grace out towards the woman, but all she found was a human soul. She turned her eyes between Dean and Castiel, but when she found no hint of deception on their faces, she reluctantly turned back to Mary, lips twisted in a quizzical frown. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Dean’s jaw ticked, his face darkening, but Mary merely forced a small smile. “Yes, that’s, uh, that’s what I’ve heard.” 

“Amara brought her back,” Dean said, and Alex frowned at the abrupt and cryptic explanation. She waited, head tipped, but Dean had already turned to Castiel. “Alright, so I ran that tail number that the, uh, the driver gave us. The plane that evil Elsa flew in on has diplomatic registry.” 

“Wait,” Alex interrupted, “so these people aren’t American?” 

“British.” Dean’s lips curled as he spoke, and Alex frowned: was the sneer meant for her or for the kidnappers? “And it means that the flight plans are sealed, unless you want to hack the State Department.” 

“Who are these people?” 

“And why are we here?” Alex added over Mary’s question, wings stretching out through the clearing in which they stood. “Did they pass through this place, because this is kind of out in the middle of nowhere.” All she was met with was Dean’s frown, and she turned her gaze off behind her, back towards the bustling marketplace. “What’s over there?” 

“Dr. Gregory Marion.” Castiel answered her question, and his wings rustled as he started back towards the road. “We found the driver of the woman who took Sam. He said that he dropped them off at that man’s house before he was sent away.” Alex hurried after Castiel, and he finished, “He’ll know where Sam is.” 

“Great. Point me to him.” Alex stopped on the edge of the clearing, her eyes sweeping the gathered crowd. “I think —”

“Dean.” Castiel spoke over her, and Alex turned at the sound of his wings bristling; the seraph’s voice, however, concealed any emotion. His eyes were locked on a silver van that was coasting down the road, the words _Dr. Marion_ and _Veterinarian_ written on the door in yellow letters. 

“Great. Let’s go.” Dean stalked past Alex, and the young angel’s wings fluttered at the shoulder that crashed into hers. He led the way down the road, leaving Alex to hurry after him. The van had pulled into a driveway near the end of the street. Dean’s hand went back, and the silver muzzle of his handgun flashed in the sun. Alex’s own grace twisted, toying with the angel blade tucked inside her jacket, but Castiel’s hand on her arm stopped her from drawing it. 

The veterinarian had circled around to the side of his parked van, oblivious to their presence as he unloaded a large bag of dog food and slung it across his shoulder. He started towards the front door of his clinic, clearly marked by the white wooden sign, and Dean surged forward. His boots scuffed on the gravel driveway, and the man’s head perked up, but the warning came too late as Dean pressed the muzzle of his gun into the back of the man’s neck. “Dr. Marion.” His voice was little more than a growl, and Alex felt Castiel’s hand fall away as the seraph cast a wary look around. “How about you let us in?” 

The dog food fell to the ground, kibble spilling across the grass as the bag split open. “I don’t — I don’t want any trouble,” the man spluttered out. “Whatever you want, take it.” 

“We want information.” Alex stepped up to Dean’s side, and Dr. Marion’s head craned to catch sight of her over his shoulder. “Where’s Sam?” 

“W-Who?” 

Alex’s grace snapped out, unlocking the clinic door, and she shoved Dr. Marion away from Dean’s gun and through the doorway. “Sit down,” she ordered, and the man dropped down into a wooden chair with a bump. “Sam Winchester. Tall guy — you can’t miss him.” The man’s face paled, and Alex glanced back toward Castiel before she added, “Might have been with a woman. Where is he?” 

“I don’t — who are you?” The doctor jumped as Mary slammed the door behind her, leaving him alone with the four strangers. His eyes darted over to Dean, widening at how the hunter’s finger toyed with the metal trigger guard, and his nails dug into the wooden arms of his seat. “Okay, okay, I swear I don’t know anything. They just showed up yesterday morning, and she had this guy in the trunk with a — with a bullet in his leg. S-She told me to remove it and suture the wound, and after that, they just left. I swear, that’s all I know.”

Dean stepped forward to Alex’s side, his shoulders rolled back as he took command. “So, you dug a bullet out of his leg, no questions asked?” 

“She offered me a hundred grand.” 

“And you took it?” Mary asked, and Alex stepped aside to let the woman brush her way forward, a scornful note tinging her words. 

Dr. Marion huffed, a sound more fearful than scoffing. “Student debts were a bitch, okay?” 

Feathers rustled as Castiel’s wings snapped up, and his grace crackled through the air as he stepped forward, stopped only by Dean’s hand that jumped forward to catch his shoulder. “Hey, Cas!” He held the seraph back with a shake of his head, his voice a growl. “Don’t hurt him. Not yet.” 

The glint in Castiel’s eyes was enough to have Dr. Marion gulping, an audible gasp for air. “Alright, l-look,” he insisted. “She didn’t give me her name, okay? When we were done, the driver bailed, I got paid, and then some other chick showed up and they all drove away.” 

He ended with a shaky shrug, and Alex’s gaze flattened. “And that’s everything you know?” she pressed. “There’s nothing else.” 

“Yeah, totally.” The man shrugged again, and his eyes flickered towards the door. 

Two steps carried Alex past Dean and to Dr. Marion’s side, and she drew the thin thread of Lucifer’s grace upwards as she hauled the man to his feet, her hands buried in his shirt. “Alex.” That was Castiel, but Alex fended him off with tattered wings. 

“He’s lying.” Alex forced the words out through gritted teeth and, somehow, she managed to lift Dr. Marion from his feet; there wasn’t much of the archangel’s grace to draw on, and she felt her strength falter as she drew it taut to the point where it felt on the edge of tearing. The action sent pinpricks of fire rushing down her arm, but she was rewarded as the doctor let out a strangled shout as his toes left the ground. 

“Ahh!” Hands clasped around her wrist, trying to pry her free, but Alex didn’t budge. “Okay, okay! I have her phone number, okay? Look!” Alex’s grace gave way, and the doctor fell to the ground, the thud of his body masking the gasp of her pain. He scrambled away, arms outstretched to keep her back. “Look, look, look. I don’t — I don’t know where they are, but she called me a couple hours ago — a few hours ago, asking about the sedative I gave the guy. So … I have her number.” 

“Her number. Good.” Alex stepped back on shaky legs, ushering Dean forward with a sweep of her wings. “Why don’t you call her for us?” 

Dr. Marion fumbled for his phone, and a hand came to rest on Alex’s shoulders; the young angel’s wings instinctively flattened at the sharp squeeze of Castiel’s fingers. “Why do her eyes do that?” Mary murmured the question up to Castiel, and Alex’s eyes stretched wide as she quickly reined Lucifer’s grace back in. It gladly retracted, burying itself back within her like a crab in the sand. “She’s not human, is she?” 

“She’s an angel,” Castiel said; the slight compression of his words were the only visible sign of the emotion that had his wings flittering. 

“Like you.” 

“Sort of.” Castiel paused, his lips parted to elaborate, but he fell silent as his gaze turned back on Dr. Marion. 

The veterinarian was on the phone, his fist clenching and unclenching as he spoke. “Yeah, I’m just calling, you know, to check up on the patient.” A slight jerk of Dean’s gun had the man lowering his phone, and the woman’s voice emanated from the speaker. 

“Is everything alright, doctor?” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Dr. Marion swallowed, and his adam’s apple bobbed as he cast a nervous glance towards Alex and Dean. “Definitely.” 

“Hm.” The frown was clear in the stranger’s thin, melodic accent. “I’m hanging up now.” 

Dean surged forward to snatch the phone out of Dr. Marion’s hand, switching it off of speaker and pressing it against his ear in one swift motion. “Listen, bitch,” he hissed, and the veterinarian jumped out of the way as Dean stepped past. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t care what you want. You have my brother.” 

The response was muffled, and Alex lifted her own grace upwards to eavesdrop. “— Winchester. I heard you were dead.” 

“Well, you heard wrong. Now, I’m gonna give you one chance — just one — to hand Sam back.” Dean’s fingers tightened around the phone, and Alex withdrew her grace as Dr. Marion tried to creep past her, retreating to the corner of the room. “You think you can run from me? Try it. Because when I find you — and I will find you — if he’s not in one piece, I will take. you. apart. You understand me?” 

The click of the line was the answer, and Dean’s face darkened as he pulled the phone away from his ear. His hand tightened, and the phone snapped in two, sending shards of glass flying to the ground. The faint tinge of blood lined the air, and Alex’s wings flicked displeasingly as she took a step forward. “We can trace the number,” she said. “They can’t hide for long.” 

Dean didn’t answer, and Alex stepped back as he dropped the phone and stalked out of the veterinary clinic. Mary was quick to follow suit, leaving Castiel to take up the rear. His wings brushed across Alex’s back, a small and hesitant touch, and Alex reluctantly shook out her wings as she followed. 

**T** he Impala sped down the road, bumping and jostling over the cracked pavement of the country road. Alex curled her fingers around the door handle as she slid towards the center, and she pulled herself back to the side with a frown. Castiel sat beside her, his ragged wings folded against the leather seats. Every so often they would twitch, brushing against hers, and the young angel shifted as the car lurched around a corner. “Hey, slow down, Dean,” she finally snapped, drawing her wings in closer. “We’re not gonna find Sammy any faster if you roll the damn car.”

“Hey, how about you shut up?” Dean retorted, and Alex held back a sharp, indignant huff. “No one invited you along, alright?” 

“ _Cas_ invited me. And even if he hadn’t, I’d still be here because _I_ want to find Sam. So why don’t you just cram your complaints up your ass and deal with me!” 

Dean scowled in the rearview mirror, and Mary looked over at her son from where she sat beside him. For a second she was quiet, studying his face before she spoke. “I don’t get it, Dean. What’s the problem?” Her eyes turned nack onto Alex, and the angel’s wings twitched disparagingly at Dean’s scoff. “Alex seems like a nice girl.” Her gaze flickered onto Dean and then back to her, adding, “For a hunter.” 

Alex watched as Castiel’s wings drooped, weighed down with frustration as Dean scoffed yet again. “The problem?” he repeated. “She went chasing after the devil when the world was ending. She had a choice between us and Lucifer, and she chose him.” He yanked the steering wheel to the side, and the car screeched around the embankment. 

“It wasn’t that simple, Dean, and you know it.” Alex crossed her arms, fighting back against the anger quickly rising in her tone. “Your plan to stop Amara — it was stupid, and I still don’t get how it worked! I left because Lucifer was out there, probably hurt and extremely pissed off, and I figured that if somehow the world _didn’t_ end, someone should probably stop him from —”

A brick wall hit her, throwing her across the car. There was a scream, but the sound was muffled beneath the shattering glass and cracking metal as a black SUV slammed into the Impala’s side. There was a squeal of tires as both vehicles screeched to a halt, and Alex’s wings snapped out as her skull hit the window. 

Lucifer’s grace roiled inside of her, ice rushing through her veins as it swelled in alarm, and Alex pulled herself off of Castiel and through the broken window, growling out her pain as she sprawled on the pavement. Her hands were wet, red with blood from wounds already healed. Someone was calling her name — certainly not Dean. Alex pushed herself to her knees, eyes turning back towards the wreckage. Cas and Dean had jumped out of the car; Castiel was at her side, and Dean was yanking open the car door. “Mom?” 

“What the fuck?” Alex grabbed on Castiel’s arm as she hauled herself to her feet. Her grace instinctively rushed into him, but she found no source of pain or bleeding; he had escaped unscathed. “Who hit us?” 

Castiel stepped away, his attention turning down onto Mary. She was sprawled across her seat, blood dripping from a small cut on her head, and the seraph’s hand hovered over her chest. “She’s unconscious, but there’s no serious damage,” he reported, but Alex barely heard, her attention on the SUV that had t-boned them. A woman had stepped out of the front seat — at least Alex thought it was a woman; the sharp nose and the high brow made it difficult to tell. 

“Dean Winchester, I presume.” The woman’s eyes moved past Alex with barely a spared look, and Alex pursed her lips at the terse British accent. “You should be more careful with your location services on your phone.” 

Dean moved to Alex’s side, his fists balled. “Are you one of them?” 

“Of course she’s one of them,” Alex snapped, scrubbing at her bloody forehead with the back of her hand. “Listen to her talk, Dean. ” Lucifer’s grace had retreated out of sight, and she staggered a step forward before she had to catch her balance, hand planted against the crumpled back panel of the Impala. 

The woman’s eyes flashed, but her angular face remained set in stone. “I’m one of them,” she said, and Dean stalked forward. Alex straightened up, ready to follow, but Castiel held her back with a hand on her shoulder. 

“Yeah.” Dean grabbed the woman by the collar of her shirt, pulling her close. “You tell me where my brother is, and I might take it easy on you,” he hissed, his face level with hers. 

The woman smirked, her dark, beady eyes narrowed. “Oh, please don’t.” She yanked herself free as a hand flew up, and gold flashed through the air as she punched Dean square in the jaw. The Winchester jumped back with a shout, a sound that was cut short by a second blow just below his diaphragm. 

The woman threw Dean down to the ground, sweeping his legs out from under him with a kick, sending Dean down onto the pavement with a heavy thud. Alex’s wings snapped up, broken feathers fanning outwards as she dropped her angel blade down into her hands. “Hey!” The sight of the weapon badly slowed their attacker down. Alex swung her blade upwards, a weak attack as she rocked up onto the balls of her feet, waiting for her opponent’s defensive response. 

What she hadn’t expected was a fist directly to her ribcage. The punch sent shockwaves through her grace, and Alex’s fingers went slack. Her weapon clattered to the ground, but the sound was lost to her beneath the fluttering of her feathers and the breathless gasp that forced its way past her lips. Alex’s empty hands balled into fists, and she stumbled back, planting her feet as she prepared a defense, but the woman was quicker, and a second blow to the face sent Alex to the ground. Her grace felt numb — paralyzed — and she looked up in time to see the flash of bronze on the woman’s hands as she rounded on Castiel. Enochian sigils were carved into the brass knuckles, and Alex pinched her bleeding nose as she reached for her weapon, discarded five feet away. 

Castiel grunted, a tell-tale sign that he was receiving the same brutal treatment. Alex pulled herself forward on her elbows, reaching for her blade, but a foot came out of nowhere, crushing her outstretched hand against the pavement. Bones crunched, and Alex hissed through clenched teeth. Her weapon was kicked away, skittering under the car. 

By this point, Dean had scrambled to his feet, and the woman stepped forward, leaving Alex to draw her hand back with a pained scowl. Her fingers burned, the knuckles broken, and she curled inwards, teeth clenched, as she urged her grace to heal. “Looking for this?” The woman was holding Dean’s gun, taunting him with it, and Alex rocked back onto her heels, fighting through the buzzing in her ears. A gun. She fumbled back for her own handgun, shoving her numbed grace against her broken fingers as she sought out the trigger. 

The shot echoed through the air, ringing among the trees. A second later, the woman collapsed to the pavement, clutching at her knee with both hands. Dean’s gun clattered across the road, kicked away from her reach by Dean himself, and Alex glanced back at Castiel. The seraph’s face was bruised, and a ring of broken and bleeding skin sat beneath his eye, inflicted by the sharp corners of the woman’s brass knuckles. “Are you okay?” Worry tinged his voice as he crossed to her side, one hand extended to help her to her feet. 

Alex grunted as she accepted his help, wincing at the pain as her broken fingers clutched his wrist. She could feel his grace flinch at the contact of their skin, but nothing flitted through his eyes. “I’m fine.” Alex straightened her shirt with a frown that covered her grimace. “You look a lot worse than I do.” She gently probed at her nose with her good hand; her grace was beginning to tingle as the numbness wore off, and she could feel Lucifer’s grace begin to swell, icy cold. Her eyes darted across the road, half-expecting the archangel to appear. “Uh, it’s a good thing I still carry this,” she added quickly, forcing a weak grin as she shoved her weapon back into her jeans. 

Castiel didn’t answer, and Alex shifted her eyes onto Dean. “Where’s Sam?” The Winchester had retrieved his gun, and its hammer clicked as he swung it down towards the stranger. The question was met with scornful silence, and his eyes flashed, green fire. 

There was a groan from behind them, and Alex twisted back towards the Impala in time to see Mary begin to stir. Castiel’s eyes flickered over to Dean, a silent question in his gaze; he must have received an answer, because the look lasted barely a moment before he was returning to the car, his crumpled wings rustling in the breeze. “What’s your name?” Alex turned back to the woman, her jaw setting at the cold, flat eyes that narrowed in disdain. 

“Watts.” This time the answer came, cool and crisp, and Alex’s eyes dropped down to where her hands were wrapped tightly around her knee; despite her best efforts, blood seeped through her fingertips. 

“Watts.” Alex tested the name out on her tongue as she curled her lip. Movement in the corner of her eye had her attention flickering to the side to see Mary step out of the Impala with Castiel’s aid; she could feel the tension in Dean’s soul release at the sight. “Alright, I’ll tell you what.” Alex forced her gaze back onto Ms. Watts. “If you tell us where Sam is, we’ll make this painless. If not … then I’ll take a crack at it.” It took some effort on the part of her grace, but she managed to draw on Lucifer’s, letting it course through her veins until her eyes glowed with its light. “And I’ll make sure you feel every second of it until I decide to rip your soul right out of your throat.” 

“Wait.” Mary moved forward, supported still by Castiel, and Alex let the light fade. “You can’t kill her!” 

Alex’s feathers bristled, and she forced them to lay flat. “She’s their bulldog — they sent her to kill us. Dean tried asking nicely, but clearly they don’t want to play ball and give Sam back.”

“Well, we have one of theirs now.” Mary stepped away from Castiel; she was favoring her right side, but she still stood steady. For a moment she was silent, eyes taking in the woman who knelt at gunpoint. “Why don’t we see if we can set up a trade?”

“Might be worth a shot,” Dean finally agreed, and Alex let out a begrudging huff. Lucifer’s grace coiled within her, a silent yet persistent question, and then, her phone rang. 

Alex retrieved it with a frown. The screen was flashing with an unknown number from an unknown area code, and her fingers moved to block the number, but the faint shift of Lucifer’s grace had her pausing. Her eyes turned across her companions, heat rising to her cheeks to find three sets of eyes on her; only Ms. Watts was turned away, her attention still fixed defiantly upon Dean. Frown deepening, Alex shook her phone, mumbling out, “I gotta take this,” before she retreated to the other side of the cars. “Uh, hello?” 

“What’s going on with your grace?” An unfamiliar voice spoke, sharp and terse, and Alex’s wings fell low as Lucifer’s grace twisted within her. 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Alex dismissed the concern, quickly drawing up her wings with a glance back towards Castiel. Thankfully, the seraph’s attention had already turned elsewhere. “Sounds like you found a vessel. How did you get my number?” 

“I saw it in Castiel’s head.” The amusement in Lucifer’s voice was palpable. “I’m a being of primordial creation. I think I can memorize nine numbers.” 

Alex’s eyes drifted back towards Mary and Dean; their lips were moving, deep in conversation, but Alex didn’t bother to listen in. “Never said you couldn’t,” she muttered, toeing at the shattered glass that lined the pavement. “Is everything okay? Why are you calling?” 

There was a pause, a barely there hesitation that had Alex frowning. “Just checking in,” came the answer. “What did you do — get in a fight or something?” 

“Exactly that, yeah.” Alex forced a small shrug that she knew he couldn’t see. “One of the people who took Sam — they had some weapon that packed a hell of a punch even against me and Cas. Nothing sharp,” she was quick to add as Lucifer’s grace seemed to tighten around hers. “Just a pair of enchanted brass knuckles or something. Whatever magic they were laced with, it seemed to stun my grace a bit. Don’t worry about me,” she finished, and she looked down at her hand, flexing that broken fingers that her grace had already begun knitting back together. “It’s wearing off.” 

She could hear the frown in the silence that followed, but when Lucifer spoke again, his voice contained nothing but curiosity. “Do you need me?” 

_Need you?_ Alex brushed off her confusion with a twitch of her wings. “We should be fine,” she half-lied with a glance back towards Dean; he and Mary were still talking, oblivious to her, but Castiel’s eyes were angled in her direction. “I don’t think you being here would make anything easier,” she added, turning away to hide her face. “You should just focus on getting stronger.” 

She didn't wait for a response before she hung up, shoving her phone deep into her back pocket as she turned around. Dean was on the phone, his shoulders hunched and his face dark. Castiel stood beside Ms. Watts a few steps away, and Alex crossed to his side. "Was that him?" Castiel asked. 

Alex nodded, casting a wary glance at Mary who stood, listening, a few feet away. "Yeah, it was. He offered to help," she added after a moment's pause, "but I told him to rest. He's still pretty weak. Amara really did a number on him." Her eyes flickered off towards Dean. "What's the verdict?" 

The sound of a phone smashing against the pavement came as an answer. "They must not want her," Mary said, and Alex looked down at Ms. Watts; her face remained as hard and as stoic as it ever had been. "Now what?"

"I guess now we can beat it out of her." Alex flapped her wings as she rounded on the prisoner, and she felt Castiel's hand reach out to grasp her shoulder. 

"I don't think you should do it." Displeasure darkened his eyes, and Alex let her wings fall, head tipping as she looked over at him. "We need information now.”

 _And we can’t risk you getting carried away_. The slight twitch of his lips made his unspoken message clear, and Alex tugged gently on Lucifer's grace as she stepped back to make room. "Fine," she ground out through a clenched jaw. "Make it quick." She settled back behind him, her arms folded across her chest as Dean joined them on the side of the road. "I did shoot her, so I get the right to kill her," she added under her breath. 

Dean's hands tightened into fists as he stopped next to Castiel. "I'll take first crack at her." One hand came up to rub at his jaw, carefully skirting a dark bruise that was already blooming across his skin. "She'll talk one way or another." 

The threat barely seemed to phase the woman. "You think you can scare me?" She leaned forward with a disdainful sniff, her dark eyes glittering as she looked between the four. "I've had extensive training in withstanding even the most extreme forms of torture known to man, both physical and psychological." 

"Good thing two of us aren't human, then." Alex motioned Castiel near with a twitch of her wingtips. "Look," she began, just loud enough for Ms. Watts to overhear, "if we want this done quick and right, maybe we should call in an expert." 

"You mean Lucifer." Dean's voice was flat, and Alex drew in a steady breath to keep her feathers from bristling. 

"Yeah, Lucifer. Or Crowley, if you'd prefer," she retorted. "Both are more than capable of getting anything we need out of her." 

Dean's eyes darkened, and his lips parted in a scowl, but Castiel spoke before he could. "I can do it." Displeasure marred his face, but his voice remained placid. "I've tortured for heaven before." He looked over at Dean, and a silent conversation passed between the two of them. Dean nodded, and Alex frowned as Castiel turned towards Ms. Watts. 

"Whatever you want," she muttered under her breath, but she couldn't help the prickle of relief that tugged at her stomach. She circled back around Dean, her eyes drifting onto the black sedan still pressed into the side of the Impala. The knot around Castiel’s grace shifted as the seraph’s grace began to swell. Lucifer’s own grace rose alongside it, twisting in displeasure at the intrusion, and Alex shook out her wings as she crossed over to the car. She pulled Lucifer’s grace tighter around hers; it initially resisted, pulled taut by the distance, before it flooded through her veins. The world seemed to slow as her blood froze, a sensation that lasted mere moments before it faded away. _You thought_ that _was powerful?_ The memory of Lucifer’s words echoed through her mind. _It’s just a small fraction of what I am._

Alex grabbed the bumper and hefted the back wheels upwards. The metal frame groaned, and Alex grit her teeth as she began to haul the sedan away from the Impala. She heard a scream, and a look to the side showed Castiel, alight with his grace, with one hand embedded in the woman’s chest. “Careful.” The weight of the truck made Alex’s voice gruff and hoarse, and Ms. Watts’ scream died as Castiel paused. “One of us is going to kill her, and I’ve got first dibs.” 

She dropped the sedan by the side of the road with a grunt, wiping her hands off on her jeans as she watched Mary’s face darken. “We don’t have to kill her,” she started. “If we torture and kill, how are we any better than they are?” 

“Better?” Ms. Watts scoffed, a sound made less convincing by the hoarse note of pain. “You American hunters will never be like us —” She cut off with a cough, and Alex watched her spit up a mouthful of blood. “Dirty, bloody hunters. You’re no better than the very things you claim to hunt.” 

Alex brushed past Dean to crouch down in front of Ms. Watts. “Oh, I’m not pretending to be better than anyone.” She let Lucifer’s grace rise up, burning in her eyes. “The only thing I care about right now is finding Sam, and if I get to break a few skulls along the way … lucky me.” 

She felt Castiel’s hand on her back, resting tentatively between the shoulders of her wings, and she pushed herself to her feet with a click of her tongue. Turning back, she saw the same burning rage within her darken Dean’s eyes. A shriek filled the air as Castiel once more set to work, and Alex returned to the sedan with a snarl. She could feel Castiel’s reluctance, so strong that not even the shield Lucifer had constructed could hold back the flood. 

The shrieks turned into screams as Alex planted her hands against the dented bumper. A stretch of trees lined the side of the road, their branches low and thick enough to conceal the car. “Dean.” Alex waved the hunter over with a jerk of her chin. “Help me get this off the road.” She waited for Dean to join her before she started to push. Gravel cracked and popped beneath the tires as it rolled off the pavement and onto the soft dirt, and with one last push, the sedan rolled down the small ravine among the trees with a crash. “Thanks.” 

Dean merely grunted, and Alex rolled her eyes as he returned to his mother without a word. She followed the sedan down the small ditch, pulling the undergrowth back up as she went. Broken branches lay in the car’s wake, and she propped them up against the trunk to hide the black paint from sight. 

“Alex.” It was Castiel’s voice that had her pausing from her task, and the angel’s wings flittered as she turned around, head tipped as she listened. The air was still; the screaming had stopped. 

“Are you done?” Alex scrambled up out of the ditch, eyes seeking out the crumpled form of Ms. Watts. “Did she talk?” 

“Not exactly.” Castiel’s wings brushed against her side before they quickly drew back; his eyes darted to the ground, and when they returned to her, his face was blank with forced neutrality. “I had to fight my way into her mind.” His gaze turned down onto the unconscious woman before moving over to Dean. “Even then I only got a small glimpse. They’re keeping Sam in a farmhouse just off of Route 49.” 

“And that’s all we could get out of her?” Alex circled past Dean to crouch in front of Ms. Watts. “She won’t say anything else?” 

“I think that should be plenty.” Mary spoke up from behind her, and Alex paused, her hand outstretched. “Route 49 isn’t far from here. If I remember the maps correctly, it intersects with this road in the middle of a small town. If we split up, we can cover more ground.” 

Alex turned her eyes between Dean and Castiel, asking their advice. Castiel remained silent, and Dean’s gaze wavered, only hardening when Ms. Watts began to stir. “Alright,” he relented. “Mom, you and I will go and head west. Cas, take Alex and go east.”

Castiel nodded. “We’re looking for someplace isolated, overgrown. It’s a two-sided house with white siding.” He turned his eyes up and down the road, pausing on the half-hidden sedan as he thought. His lips parted, but there was a beat of silence before he shook his head. “You said there was a town ahead that route 49 cuts through,” he said, and Mary nodded. “Alex and I can find a car there.”

“Great. That just leaves one loose end.” Alex dug her fingers into Ms. Watts hair, hauling her head up off of the pavement. Lucifer’s grace rose up, freezing the rage inside of her, and Alex’s fingers tightened into fists. “Any last words?” 

“If you kill me, my people will hunt you down.” Ms. Watts leaned forward, and Alex curled a lip as the rasped words sent blood droplets flying into her face. “So do your worst.” 

“I wish I had the time.” Alex drew in Lucifer’s grace and let it run down her hand — a trickle at first — before it swelled, burning away at the nerves as it consumed the woman before her. Ms. Watts screamed, and her eyes shone with the light of Lucifer’s grace. 

There was a sickening _pop_ , and Lucifer’s grace vanished from within her, yanked away with such a force that it left Alex swaying on her feet. Ms. Watt’s scream died as the light left her eyes, and Alex let the body fall to the pavement. She clicked her tongue, stepping back in hopes to hide her unsteadiness. Behind her, Mary had turned away, her eyes shut. Dean’s face remained as dark as ever, and Castiel’s face was unreadable; Alex’s grace jumped within her, wanting to reach out and read his mind, but she forced it back. “Take care of the body.” Dean spoke first, turning away from the corpse. “I need to make sure Baby still starts.” 

He walked away, Mary close on his heels, and Alex frowned after them. Neither looked back and, with a shrug, Alex reached down, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before she hoisted the body up onto her shoulders. “We can put her down by the car,” she decided, and her broken wings flicked under the dead weight. Castiel remained silent, and Alex paused at his side. “You okay?” 

“Do you ever stop to think about the people we kill?” Castiel’s eyes lingered on the body before he turned away. “They’ve had a whole life leading up to this very moment. Family, loved ones —”

“They’re no better than anything else we kill without a second thought.” Alex stretched out her wings for balance as she started down the steep, rocky ditch. She heard the Impala roar to life behind her, and she glanced back to see if Castiel was following. He was. “Everyone — everything — has their own story. I can’t always stop that from killing when I have to.” She pushed her way through the undergrowth, lips pursed as brambles pulled at her jeans. “Finding Sam is my priority. Everything else comes second.” She dumped the body into the bushes, brushing her hands off on her jeans as the Impala’s horn blared. “Come on. The sooner we find a car, the sooner we can find Sam.” 

**F** ifteen minutes found Alex sitting in the front seat of a tan Silverado. Her fingers toyed with the worn seat belt as the scenery sped by the dusty window, and her eyes were locked on the power lines that raced alongside the car. Castiel sat beside her in the driver’s seat, as still and placid as any of heaven’s angels, but Alex could feel the tension that prickled at his wings. “So.” Alex broke the silence, but she kept her eyes on the side of the country road, straining to catch sight of any homes through the line of trees. “What business do the Brits have with Sam, huh?” 

“I don’t know.” Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Castiel’s fingers adjust their grip on the cracked leather steering wheel. “They seem quite knowledgeable about angels. The weapon that woman had was inscribed in Enochian.” 

“Yeah, I noticed.” Alex rubbed at her jaw; the bruise was long gone, but the memory still remained. “She said something about ‘her people.’ Is there like a British group of hunters that have something against us?” Castiel didn’t respond, and Alex tore her gaze away from the road. The seraph’s face was unreadable, but his wings were drawn in tight, and Alex reached down, instinctively reading for his grace to probe deeper; a second thought had her reluctantly pulling back. “It’s not your fault Sam is gone,” she began. “You couldn’t have —”

“I don’t blame myself,” Castiel said, shaking his head, and Alex frowned. “But I should have known something was wrong if I hadn’t been … distracted.” His broken feathers twitched, and the lines on his face deepened before relaxing back into apathy. “I see Lucifer has attempted to draw apart our bond again.” 

Alex’s eyes turned back out the window as her fingers fiddled with the seatbelt across her lap. “You can feel it?” she asked, quickly adding, “Farmhouse,” as a dirt driveway came into view. 

Castiel’s eyes slid past her to examine the structure, but the truck didn’t slow, and the yellow rambler disappeared from sight. “I can sense you when you’re right beside me, but when you leave, he’s all that I can feel.” Castiel’s wings twitched, a barely stifled shudder. “How can you stand it? Stand _him_?” 

Alex dug her teeth into her cheek, ready to snap, but no malice lined the seraph’s voice. Only frustration and disbelief. “I like it,” she finally admitted, forcing neutrality into her tone. “It’s … calming, I guess.” She turned her eyes back out the window, scanning the horizon for the next house. “I didn’t know you could feel him, too. I can try and get him to let up —”

“He won’t.” Castiel shook his head, and Alex fell silent with a sigh. “I think he’s made that very clear.” 

“Sorry.” Alex reached down to try and find Lucifer’s grace, but the distance had pulled it thin, barely there. She felt the truck slow, and she looked up to see a winding dirt driveway that traversed a closed bull gate. The engine died as the car stopped, and Alex followed Castiel out onto the dirt, her wings prickling. “Is this it?” 

“Maybe.” Castiel started down the path, and Alex followed with a thin shrug. “We need to get closer.” He led the way around the bull gate, and Alex drew her wings in close as she slipped after him, eyes turning across the trees that lined the driveway. 

It led up to a two story white farmhouse, partially hidden from the road by the thick foliage. The windows were dusty, but Alex could make out black-inked sigils on the panes. “That’s not normal.” Her wings flittered as she paused on the edge of the tree line. “You can see those wardings, too, right?” 

“Yes.” Castiel’s phone was already in his hands, and Alex settled down against a tree. Her wings curled forward as her grace stretched out, trying to probe beyond the walls of the home, but the wardings pushed her back. She leaned forward, eyes scanning for a way in, but Castiel’s hand on her shoulder had her turning away. “We can’t get in,” he said before his attention turned back onto his phone. “I think I may have found Sam’s location,” he relayed. “It appears empty. No, I haven’t been inside. It — It’s powerfully warded.” 

“Powerfully warded?” Dean’s voice rose through the phone, and Alex perked up her ears. “Okay, see, buddy, that — that was your headline right there.” 

“Are we still discussing the same thing?” Alex let Castiel’s voice slip into the background as she turned her gaze back to the house, and she reached down to tug on Lucifer’s grace — the warding may be too strong for her, but maybe not for an archangel … if only his grace wasn’t so difficult to draw on. A wingtip caught her on the shoulder, snapping her from her thoughts. “They’ll be here in five minutes.” Castiel returned his phone to his pocket, his eyes darting towards the farmhouse. “We’ll have to wait until they arrive. We can’t break that warding on our own.” 

“Too bad we killed that woman.” The thought was spoken blandly, unregretful, and Alex let her wings flitter to flatten her feathers. “She might have known a way in.” 

She dropped down onto the log of a fallen tree and, after a moment, Castiel stepped up beside her. “Do you wish you hadn’t killed her?” Alex snorted, and the log creaked as Castiel joined her. “I didn’t offer to torture her because I thought you were incompetent,” he began, and Alex cast him a sidelong glance as his voice grew low. “I think you’re … more than capable.” 

The words lingered in the air, and Alex paused, waiting for more to come. “But?” she prompted. “Why’d you volunteer then?” 

“Because I didn’t want you to.” Castiel’s eyes remained fixed on the structure up ahead. “When I first met you, you were so innocent. So … pure. To believe you were ever that young …” His eyes locked onto hers, a burning blue flame. “Do you ever stop to think about where your choices are taking you? This path you’re on — all this blood — if you’re not careful … you may find yourself as irredeemable as Lucifer.” 

Alex bristled, and her grace crackled through the air. “What does that mean?” she snapped, searching Castiel’s face, but all she found was concern. Nothing but genuine concern. “There’s nothing ‘irredeemable’ about him,” she added, and her arms folded across her chest. “The angels — heaven — that’s just the word they use when they don’t want you anymore.” Her anger sunk into sullenness, and her arms hugged her tight. “I think we’re already irredeemable in their eyes.” 

Silence fell, the only sound the wind whispering through the trees, and Alex’s wings drew in when Castiel’s grace pulled away from her, burying itself deeper into his own body. With a sigh, she turned her eyes back onto the house even as her mind turned inwards. _Lucifer?_ She tried to follow his grace upwards, but the link was too weak, too thin, and Alex reluctantly let it go. 

Castiel sat beside her, still as a stone. Every minute or so, his grace would twitch, and Alex watched him from the corner of her eye almost as much as she watched the farmhouse ahead of them. Sitting so closely, feathers almost brushing, she was painfully aware of his grace within her. It pulsed with life, flowing like a river’s current and, for a moment, Alex closed her eyes, losing herself in the warmth of the sun on her skin and the warmth of his grace in her veins. The sensation lasted but a second before her eyes snapped open. Sam was inside that house; now wasn’t the time to get distracted. With a huff, Alex shifted, fingers digging into the hem of her jacket as she searched their surroundings for any sign of life. She knew Castiel could feel her agitation, but the seraph beside her only stirred when the familiar growl of the Impala’s engine came from the road. “They’re here.”

He rose to his feet, and Alex followed close at his heels, a sudden rush of impatience twisting her grace into knots. A car door slammed and footsteps approached, crushing the fallen twigs that littered the dirt drive. “Alright.” Dean appeared from among the trees, his eyes barely passing across the two angels before they sought out the house beyond. “Where’s all this warding you mentioned?” 

“It’s hidden.” Alex jerked a thumb over her shoulder, turning away when Dean’s eyes darkened a shade. “But it’s powerful. Cas and I won’t be able to get in until it’s broken.” 

“I’m gonna have a closer look.” Dean started down the driveway; he had only taken two steps before he paused, his shoulders tensing as he turned back around. “Mom,” he warned, and Marry stopped in her tracks. “I got this.” 

Mary’s eyes darted towards the house, and her chin lifted as she took a step closer to her son. “You can keep me from driving, Dean. Not from hunting.” 

Dean shook his head, lips parted in the beginning of an argument, but nothing came. His gaze turned onto Cas, eyes stretching wide in silent persuasion, and there was a moment of hesitation before Castiel stepped forward. “We’re locked out by the warding,” he said. “We could use the extra set of hands should something else come up.”’

The argument felt flat — the tight purse of Dean’s lips said that much, but Mary’s shoulders fell as she exhaled. “Thanks, Cas.” Dean nodded towards Castiel, and Alex lingered back as his eyes darted over to her before quickly turning away. 

Alex watched Dean cross the driveway and circle arouthe house, her wings rising only once he stepped out of sight. “He’s not gonna break the wardings, is he?” The words were ground out, flat, and her fingers found a low hanging branch. Leaves fell to the ground, stripped away by blunt nails. “I don’t trust him, Cas. We need help.” 

“No.” Castiel’s hand caught her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Alex, no.” 

“What is she talking about?” Mary circled around to stand at Castiel’s side, her eyes flickering between the two angels. “Why wouldn’t we want help?” 

“Not her kind of help.” Castiel’s worn face was set into a grim line, and Alex couldn’t help the grimace that tugged at her own lips. The seraph turned away, dropping her wrist, leaving Alex to scowl at his back. “Her recent … acquaintances … have proven themselves to be less than tactful.” 

Feathers fluttered as Alex’s wings snapped out, but Castiel didn’t look back. “Lucifer.” Mary’s eyebrows knit together. “You keep mentioning his name,” she hastily added when Alex’s frown turned onto her. “And I’m getting the feeling you mean the real Lucifer.” Alex offered up a shrug, and Mary’s gaze turned towards the house. “Dean told me what had happened,” she began, “— about everything that’s happened since I died — but he didn’t mention anything about you. But the way he did it … it’s like he went out of his way not to say your name.” Alex’s eyes dropped to the ground, head turned away, and Mary’s voice softened. “You don’t do that to someone you don’t care about.” 

The air pulsed with a cold chill, sharp and foreign, and Alex’s head snapped up. “Someone’s activated a warding,” she said, crossing over to the tree line to peer out at the house; despite the twitching in her grace, the building remained silent and dark. She felt Mary’s eyes flick away before returning to the back of her head, and the angel’s wings twitched as the silence lengthened. “We — Dean and I — we used to be close,” she finally said, reluctance dragging out each word, and her wings drew in tight around her. “A long time ago. I was eighteen, but he still saw me as a kid — someone he had to protect from all the evils that he had to grow up with. Swearing, drinking. Hunting. You name it.” Her feet carried her forward, pacing along the tree line as she watched the house. “I don’t think he could stand to look at me once I chose the greatest evil of them all.” 

“She wasn’t born an angel.” Castiel said, his voice so low Alex had to strain to hear. “She was human once, not long ago. She was … young … and inexperienced.” There was a pause. “It was my fault she met Lucifer in the first place.” 

_It’s not your fault._ “The wardings are still up.” Alex broke in, voice raised. “Dean should have taken care of them by now.” Her wings flapped twice, stirring up the leaves as she spun around. “I need to get closer.” 

“You can’t.” Castiel caught her by the shoulder. “If Sam and Dean —”

“You felt that — that _something_. Something’s wrong, Cas. I know it is.” Alex’s wings flapped as she glanced back at the silent house, and she felt Castiel’s grace withdraw as her impatience boiled over. “I have to get closer. I need to get in there.” 

Castiel frowned, and in that moment of hesitation, Mary stepped forward. “I’ll go,” she said, one hand raised. “You said it yourself,” she insisted when Castiel opened his mouth, “neither of you can get close. And if Alex is right …” Mary paused, and her chest rose and fell in a sigh that ended in a tight-lipped frown. “I should be the one to go.” 

“No. I promised Dean —”

The air seemed to twist, and both angels’ eyes snapped towards the house. “You need to deactivate the wardings.” Alex pushed herself in between Castiel and Mary, ushering Mary forward with her arms and wings. “Break them, erase them, cross them out — it should all work. Just find a way to let us in, and we’ll go after Sam together.” 

Mary gave a quick, sharp nod, and then she left, hurrying across the grass towards the old farmhouse. “You shouldn’t have let her go.” Castiel stepped up to her side, and Alex’s eyes rolled upwards. “Dean won’t be pleased.” 

“She seems capable,” Alex retorted. “Besides, I came here to save Sam, not to make Dean happy.” She kicked at a broken branch, sending it skittering through the leaf litter. “I don’t care what he thinks — it’s not like I’m batting a hundred in his books these days.” She watched as Mary disappeared from sight, and her nostrils flared as she pressed against the wardings once again, feeling around for some way — any way — inside. 

“Calm down.” The exasperation in Castiel’s voice had Alex pausing, and her eyes slid down to her feet; when had she started pacing again? “You have to give her more than a minute.”

“I hate this.” Alex dropped down onto the fallen log, but she jumped back up a second later, the anticipation clawing its way beneath her skin. “I-I thought that when I was an angel, I wouldn’t have to sit out like this.” Her grey eyes flashed, and she planted a hand against the trunk of an old oak as she looked over at Castiel. “What if we’re too late?” 

Her eyes swung back towards the house, wings twitching as foliage crackled beneath Castiel’s feet. She felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder, a light and hesitant touch, and she shoved what little remained of Lucifer’s grace down into the pit of her stomach as her shoulders sagged. “If they wanted Sam dead, they would have killed him at the bunker.” The hand fell away, but Castiel stayed near. “Whatever they want him for, they have reason to keep him alive —”

A gunshot echoed through the air, startling a crow that took off into the sky with a shrieking cry. “Shit.” The tree bark cracked as Alex’s nails sunk inwards to the soft cambium. “That came from inside.” 

“Alex.” Castiel’s hand caught her wrist as she stepped forward, and she turned, ready to snap, but the hum of a motor had her pausing. A black car was turning into the driveway, its windows tinted black, and Alex drew up on Lucifer’s grace. The hand on her wrist tightened, and she reigned it back in with a growl, letting the light die from her eyes. The engine died next to the Impala, and there was a moment’s pause before the door swung open. 

“Castiel.” A dark-haired stranger stepped out of the car, pausing only to straighten his black sport coat before adding, “And Evelyn.” 

“It’s Alex,” Alex corrected, and her weapon slid down into her hand as the corners of the stranger’s lips twitched up in an apologetic smile. He wasn’t tall, standing just below Castiel, but the arrogant light in his eyes and the musical note in his voice had her stepping forward with a hiss. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? Where’s Sam?” 

“That’s why I’m here.” The man’s crisp accent grew thick with momentary disdain at the sight of her weapon, but other than that, he paid her blade no heed. “If the both of you are here, I’m sure that Dean Winchester isn’t far behind. If you don’t mind me asking: where is he?” His eyes lingered on Alex, and when the angel pursed her lips together, they slid past her onto the farmhouse. “Ah.” There was a moment’s pause before the eyes returned to her face. “You can put that away. I’m not here to hurt any of you. Quite the opposite, actually.” He didn’t wait for compliance before he stepped past her, calling out over his shoulder, “Are you coming?”

Alex hesitated only a second before she followed, casting a tight-lipped glance back toward Castiel. The seraph trailed after her, his wings drawn in tightly, and Alex pulled her weapon back up into her sleeve as she hurried up the gravel driveway. The stranger had stopped at the front door, where a large, circular warding had been drawn in white chalk. “Who are you?” she asked, eyeing the farmhouse with a frown; this close, she could feel the wardings humming with power. “And how do you know who we are?” 

“British Men of Letters.” The man scrubbed at the sigil with a wadded up handkerchief that he had produced from his jacket pocket. “My name’s Michael Davies — you can call me Mick if you like.”

“Great. Mick. And how do you know us?” 

“We first learned of the Winchesters and their … companions … ever since they let Lucifer out of his box. As for you, we’ve known of your true identity since 2012. We’ve kept close tabs on all of you.” The door swung open, and Mick glanced back at her. “Wait here one moment.” 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Alex peered into the house, but the wardings still pushed her out. She felt Castiel stop at her side, and she stepped back, head craned up towards the upper windows. “Dammit!” Castiel remained silent, and Alex caught him in the side with a wing. “Who the hell is this guy?” She looked up into the seraph’s face, and she struggled against Lucifer’s grace as it twisted within her, latching onto the turmoil in her chest. “Can we trust him?” 

The house in front of them ceased its humming, and Castiel tipped his head. “He’s powered down the wardings,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “I think … if he meant us harm, he would have gone in without us.” 

He stepped inside the house, and Alex followed, letting out a reluctant grunt in agreement to Castiel’s assessment. There were footsteps above their heads, and a second later, Mick appeared at the top of the stairs. “Well? Come on.” He led the way down the hall, and Castiel followed close at his heels. 

_What’s wrong?_ Lucifer’s voice had Alex pausing, and her head whipped around, half-expecting the archangel to be standing behind her. 

_Nothing._ Alex brushed his concern away with an angered shake of her wings. _I can’t talk now. I’m busy._ Lucifer’s grace shifted, but he said nothing, and Alex hurried down the hall, ears straining for any signs of life. “Well played.” Mick’s voice came from around the corner, and Alex peered through a doorway to find him standing on a flight of descending wooden steps. Castiel stood at his side, and Alex ducked her head to peer past him into the basement beyond. 

The basement — if it could even be called that — was incomplete; a concrete floor and bare wooden studs. The first person she saw was Dean, blood leaking from a small cut on his forehead. The second was Sam. He was chained to a metal chair, his arms wrenched behind his back. His brown hair was matted and damp, and his chest heaved in fast, pained breaths. “Sam!” 

The Winchester’s feet were bare, revealing red, blistering skin, and Alex pushed herself past Castiel, wings flaring out as she jumped down the rest of the stairs. Her ankles stung as she landed, but she didn’t slow until she was at Sam’s side. Blood stained his face, but his eyes lit up as she took his head in her hands. “It’s okay,” he promised, and Alex ran her fingers along the stubble that covered his cheeks. “I’m okay.” 

“Who did this to you?” Alex pressed her grace into him, seeking out and cataloging each injury that she healed. The chains that held him cracked beneath the force of her anger, clattering to the ground. 

“I said it’s okay.” Sam’s hands covered hers, and it took Alex a moment to realize that he was pushing her away. 

“Who the hell are you?” Dean’s loud voice came from beside Sam, and Alex rose to her feet, turning her eyes across the rest of the room as Mick descended to stand at the foot of the stairs. Mary Winchester stood off to the side, her eyes locked on her sons, but her feet seemed frozen to the floor. A gun was in her hand, and Alex’s nostrils flared at the scent of fresh blood; not enough for a gunshot wound, but gunpowder still hung in the air. A corpse lay just behind Mary — not a corpse, Alex corrected as she watched the chest rise and fall. A woman, unconscious but alive.

Sam pushed a bit harder, and Alex complied with his insistence. She stepped back, one hand on Sam’s shoulder as he staggered to his feet. “Who’s she?” Alex flicked a wing down towards the strange woman, following the gesture with a point of her finger. She kept her voice low, barely audible beneath Mick's answer to Dean’s question.

“Uh, British Men of Letters.” Sam’s gaze flickered onto Mick, and his voice grew impatient. “She wanted information about American hunters.” He hobbled over to his brother, and Alex’s eyebrows knit together at his words. 

Mary had joined her sons, and Alex circled around behind them to crouch down beside the unconscious woman. She rolled her over onto her back, frowning down into the pale, young face. “Ah, Evelyn?” Mick’s voice had her pausing, and Alex frowned with a muttered, “Alex,” under her breath. “Don’t worry about the Lady Bevell.” The woman stirred below her, eyes flickering open with a low groan, and Alex rose to her feet with a disgusted flick of her wing. Her feet instinctively carried her back towards Castiel, but a glare from Dean had her circling around to stand on the other side of Mick. “What you were told is basically true.” Mick’s attention turned back onto the Winchesters. “We were keen on knowing about the two of you, seeing as you seem to be partially carrying on the Men of Letters’ work here now that the American chapter is defunct.” 

By this point, the woman pushed herself up to her feet, one hand gingerly exploring a growing bruise across her cheek, and Dean’s face darkened into a scowl. “So you sic your attack dog on us to what — say hi?” 

Lady Bevell scoffed, but she fell silent when Mick glanced in her direction. “Well, part of our … group suspects some kind of malfeasance among you American hunters,” he said. “But no argument — Lady Bevell went too far.” His eyes swung back onto Sam. “I deeply apologize.” Sam shook his head, lips pursed in disbelief, and Mick’s face grew cold. “She’ll face consequences in London.” 

“I’ll tell you what,” Dean said, his voice cold. “Why don’t you take a walk, and she can face those consequences right here and now?” 

“No, she’s ours.” The faintest hint of a threat crept into Mick’s voice, and Dean’s jaw ticked. “We’ll take care of her. Now.” His attention widened to include the rest of the room. “I’m here to extend the olive branch. We want to work with you —” 

“Let me ask you a question, uh — Mick, wasn’t it?” Sam cut in, and the man fell silent as Sam motioned to himself and his brother. “Why would we believe _any_ of this?” 

“Lads … if I wasn’t sincere — if I meant you harm — there’d be a dozen ways I could’ve come in here and taken you all prisoner instead of being unarmed.” His arms spread out to motion to Castiel and Alex. “Not to mention I powered down all the wardings in this shack so your attack dogs could come in. I reckon either of you could finish me off without breaking a sweat,” he added, his head turning to either side to look at both angels. “Am I right?” 

Alex merely grunted, but Castiel’s face tightened. “I don’t sweat under any circumstances.” 

Mick paused, and his eyes flickered across the seraph’s stony expression before he reached into his pocket. “My number.” He handed a business card to Castiel, who took it without a word. “Take your time, cool down, and just think it over. And what have you got to lose, except your worst nightmares?”

Silence followed his words, broken only when Sam shifted his weight with a small cough. “Come on.” Dean’s face grew cold as he spoke, and he stalked towards the stairs, brushing past Mick none-too-lightly in the process. Sam followed, a worried Mary close on his heels. Alex listened as they ascended, and she took up the rear behind Castiel, glancing backwards to watch the two Men of Letters exchange a silent look. The Winchesters were already by the Impala by the time that she stepped out of the house, and Alex lengthened her stride to join them before the doors opened. “Oh no.” Dean stepped forward, one arm stretched out to stop her in her path. “You’re not coming with. You made your choice, remember?” 

Alex snorted, looking past the Winchester in search of Castiel; the seraph’s eyes were downcast, seemingly enrapt by something on the ground. Mary was already in the backseat, her eyes trained on Dean. “I just want to make sure Sam’s okay,” Alex said, her voice as level as she could make it, “and then I’ll be on my way.” 

“Cas can take care of it.” 

Alex opened her mouth, ready to snap, but Sam spoke first. “I’ll be fine.” He had paused beside the passenger door, leaning up against the frame as he looked between Alex and Dean. Alex’s jaw snapped shut with a click, and the light in his eyes softened. “Just — just do what he says, okay? Don’t worry about me.” 

“Too late.” However, Alex stepped back, her wings falling down to her side as she watched the Winchesters get into the car. The engine roared to life, and tires kicked up dirt as it sped back towards the road. 

“Need a lift?” Mick’s voice from behind her had Alex’s feathers fluttering in surprise; she hadn’t heard him walk up behind her. 

“I can fly.” Alex muttered the words under her breath; a sidelong look up into the man’s face showed that the lie had fallen flat. She averted her gaze towards his black Buick, where the Lady Bevell was already seated in the backseat. 

Mick’s eyes followed hers, and he let out a low breath. “I’ll make sure that Toni is punished according to the damages that she has caused. It’s … unfortunate that we had to meet under such tense circumstances, but I look forward to working with you in the future. All of you.” Alex’s eyes snapped up onto him, and the man’s teeth flashed in a smile. A business card appeared in his hand, and the grin disappeared. “I’ll see you around, Evelyn.” 

He walked away, leaving Alex to mutter, “Alex,” at his turned back. She watched the Buick leave, and only once they were out of sight did she let her shoulders slump. She turned the business card over in her hands once, then twice, before she tucked it deep inside her jacket pocket. “Lucifer?” Her voice hung in the empty air, and she turned her eyes upwards onto the cloudless sky. “Are you there?” 

_Busy. Come find me when you can._ A vague sense of direction pulled at her grace, and Alex glanced behind her with a heavy sigh. There went her ride. She could still hear the Buick’s engine as it turned onto the main road, and she entertained the momentary thought of running after it before she quickly chased it away. The sound of the car disappeared, and Alex shook her head with a small scoff. Her gaze drifted onto the rusted brown pickup truck that she and Castiel had stolen, and her hands closed around the keys to her Marquis, warm from where they had been pressed against her thigh. If she was lucky, that truck could get her to the nearest bus stop, and from there … her eyes turned to the western sky, where Lucifer’s grace pulled her towards the horizon. From there, she just had to head west.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 12 is official underway! Unfortunately, due to work/life I haven't had as much time to write, hence the long hiatus ... even after almost a year I'm still not done, but have decided to post what I have in hopes that it'll inspire me to keep chugging along. 
> 
> Posting schedule is every Saturday, once a week until further notice. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	3. Mama Mia

**W** ith a grumble, Alex threw open the door to the blue Ford, eyes rolling upwards as she felt beneath the seat for the small black lever that would release the gas lid. A semi rumbled by, shaking the metal canopy that had been precariously pitched above the gas station, and the young angel waited until it was out of sight before she stepped out into the night. The parking lot around her was nearly empty; a rusted coupe sat around the side of the lit 711, and a black SUV was fueling at one of the far stations. Alex settled the fuel pump into the stolen Taurus before she leaned up against the back door, her grace stretching out to explore her surroundings. 

Her phone buzzed, and her grace snapped back into place. Alex patted down her pockets in search of her phone, only to frown at the notification on the screen. Local weather advisory in Lombard. Alex snorted as she peered up at the sky; with any luck, she would be far away before the first few drops of the storm began. She swiped up, and her messages appeared. Sam’s name was at the top, and she heaved a sigh as she reread his texts. _May be best to keep your distance from Dean. At least until things cool down._

 _We need to talk about Lucifer soon._ The last text had been sent three days ago. Alex’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard, contemplating a response, but in the end, she settled for a mere scowl. ‘Talk’ to the Winchesters inevitably meant ‘help us shove him back in the box,’ and she had no plans on having that conversation any time soon.

The gas pump clicked as a low rumble of thunder drifted over her head, and Alex sighed as she shoved the nozzle back into place. It was time to move on. She climbed into the car, throwing her phone into the center console as she did so. The wind whipped through the trees as she guided the stolen vehicle back onto the road, and the frame shuddered under the force. Alex reached down to pluck at Lucifer’s grace; it sat within her, no stronger than before, but its urge to travel westwards still remained. The car jerked as it hit a pothole; Alex grumbled out a curse as the force rattled her phone from its precarious perch. She pulled it out and tossed it onto the passenger seat beside her —

The air shifted, and a hand caught her phone midair. “Going somewhere?” Crowley paused only long enough to identify the device that he held before he dropped it back into the cupholder. “I had a feeling that I would find you nearby.” 

A rush of anger bubbled up beneath her skin, and Alex spared the demon a low glare. “I’m just passing through,” she muttered, returning her eyes to the road as she sped through a yellow light. She pursed her lips as silence fell, only moved to speak again when Crowley cleared his throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. Hi, Crowley. What brings you to this part of town?” 

The venom in her tone was palpable, but Crowley appeared to take no notice. “Same thing that brought you here, I imagine.” His eyes turned out onto the road ahead as Alex guided the car none-too-gently around the bend in the road. “A body turned up this afternoon a mere twenty miles from here. Eyes burned clean out of their skull — messy business.” 

“Sounds like.” 

“And one of my little birdies put you at the scene,” Crowley finished, and Alex tipped her head to find that his eyes had turned back onto her. His shoulders were slouched as he reclined in his seat, but his eyes were sharp with accusation. “Which means one of two things. Either that body belonged to one of my men — which it didn’t — or said body was being inhabited by a certain mutual acquaintance of ours.” 

“You can’t call them that. The demons,” Alex reiterated when Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “They’re not yours anymore.” Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she fought, in vain, to keep the frustration from her voice. “They’re tired of your leadership. Lucifer’s top pick.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, searching for any sign of discomfort, but Crowley hid his thoughts behind a mask of equanimity. “Not for long, I’m afraid. He’s still running, jumping from vessel to vessel. He’s weak, and he’s scared.” Crowley clicked his tongue in faux sympathy. “That dust-up with the Darkness must have really taken it out of the old boy.” 

“He’ll get stronger.” Alex slammed her foot down on the accelerator, and the Ford shuddered as it was forced to shift gears. “It’s just a matter of finding a vessel that can hold him.” 

“And in the meantime, you’re playing catch-up in a rusted rattletrap.” Alex rolled her eyes, and she heard Crowley’s fingers drum on the armrest. “Green River, Lewiston, DuBois. You’ve been running back and forth across the country. Can’t be good for the environment.” 

_He knows._ The thought crackled through her mind, but Alex quickly buried the surprise. Of course he knew; the only question was how. “What the hell do you want, Crowley?” 

“Where’s Lucifer?” The leather bucket seats creaked as Crowley angled himself towards her. Alex opened her mouth, but the demon cut her off before she could voice her lie. “I know you’ve been in contact with him — don’t bother denying it.” Alex snapped her jaw shut, and Crowley’s accent sharpened as he turned back to face the road. “I want to know where he is.” 

“So you can throw him back into the Cage?” Alex snorted. “Yeah, no thanks, not interested.” 

“Don’t act like you can’t see it.” Crowley’s eyes followed a stop sign as Alex blew through the intersection, but he paused only long enough to hum before continuing on. “At least when Amara was here, we all had a common goal. But now, she and Chuck have run away again for who knows how long, and Lucifer is …?” He paused, letting his question hang in the air. “There’s no apocalypse, no bigger bad to put back down. What’s his goal here?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Of course you don’t.” Crowley’s voice grew scathing, and Alex rolled her eyes. “I bet you haven’t even bothered to ask. All you care about is getting him into some hot —”

“I swear to God, Crowley.” Alex slammed her palms against the steering wheel.“If you don’t shut up and leave me alone, I’m going to exorcise you from this damn car and toss your smokeless corpse into the nearest river.” 

Her interruption went unnoticed. “You like bad boys — God knows I get that — but I don’t think you see the gravity of the situation here. _Lucifer_ is walking the earth unchecked. And soon he’s going to find a strong enough vessel that he can begin his own work. Either you’re blind, or you don’t truly understand what he’s capable of.” 

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand —”

“Don’t understand what, pray tell?” Crowley cut into her shout, and Alex snapped her jaw shut with an audible click. “Lucifer only wants one thing: control. And he won’t just stop at hell. Heaven, earth — he’ll conquer everything that he can, and then he’ll start running things the way _he_ wants. Never mind how many forests he’ll burn or towns he’ll swallow up.” Alex scoffed, lips parted in preparation of a defense, but none came. Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Come on, kitten, what were you expecting? That he would come sweep you off your feet so that the two of you could retire to some secluded house in the woods? You think you could ever live a life with the devil?” 

“Get out of here, Crowley!” Alex snapped her head to the side, but the demon was already gone. A horn blared, and Alex yanked the car back into its lane as a semi roared past, its headlights momentarily blinding her from the road in front of her. “Great.” Alex ground out the word to the empty car. Crowley was looking for Lucifer. 

The brakes squealed against the pavement, and the car slid to a halt on the side of the road. The question that had been itching at the back of her mind now returned full force: how did he know? Alex ripped off her seatbelt and leaned over, broken wings fluttering as she shoved a hand into the door pocket. Her knuckles clacked against the hard plastic, but she kept going, digging through the discarded napkins and candy wrappers. Nothing. She threw open the glove box, tossing out the car manuals, but again, it was empty. 

The angel paused, and her wings flicked as she frowned. Where was it? After a moment’s hesitation, she ran her fingers under the passenger seat, an action rewarded by the discovery of the coarse fabric of a burlap bag, no larger than her fist. She yanked it out from its hiding place, holding it up with a triumphant grin that darkened into a scowl. A hex bag — for tracking her, no doubt. Her fingers tightened around it, grace rising, but she stopped it short of burning up the bundle. Destroying it would only alert its maker. She straightened up and dropped the hex bag into the passenger seat, scrubbing one hand through her hair as she turned her eyes back onto the road. No. Crowley could be dealt with another way. 

**Cleveland, Ohio**

**T** he brake pads squealed as Alex stopped the car on the side of the road, parked directly across from a brightly lit hotel. The engine choked as it died, and Alex flicked off the headlights, careful to make sure the keys were visible hanging from the ignition. If she was lucky, someone would see that as easy pickings and take the vehicle off of her hands. Her wings flared as she stepped out into the night, but she reined them back in. Lucifer’s grace sat heavy within her, pulling her across the street. 

Her feet carried her through the lobby and up the stairs to the rooms above. The door at the far end was thrown clean off its hinges, and Alex cast a sharp look around the empty hall before she grimaced; she didn’t need Lucifer’s grace to tell her that was the room she was looking for. “Luce?” She poked her head in through the open doorway. The room inside was immaculate, barely touched, and Alex picked up the fallen door and leaned it against the wall with a frown. Lucifer was nearby — she knew that much — but she couldn’t pinpoint his exact location. “Are you here?”

“Took you long enough.” A voice sounded in her ear, and Alex jumped. Her wings snapped out, colliding with a solid body before they retracted, feathers splayed protectively across her back. She spun around, feet carrying her into the room as her eyes swept across Lucifer’s new vessel. 

The first thing that struck her was that he was _old_. Wrinkles sat under his dark eyes, their age accentuated by the angular face and sunken cheekbones. _Not_ old old, Alex reluctantly corrected. His hair, almost reaching his shoulders, was dark without a trace of grey and, though his frame was thin, it was still strong. Her eyes returned to his face, and the young angel frowned. There was something in those features that felt familiar, something that set off a small bell in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Your vessel …” Her lips hung open as she swept her eyes across him one more time, but the recognition sat just out of grasp. Who was he? “He looks … I feel like I’ve seen him before.”

The door she had propped up slipped from its perch, crashing to the ground. “He’s stronger than the others.” Lucifer spoke quietly, the epitome of calm, even as the impact almost had Alex jumping out of her skin. Her eyes flickered past him, but crimson wings rose upwards, hiding the broken door from her sight. “Just a small misunderstanding,” he promised, reaching into his leather jacket.

He tossed his wallet to her, and Alex caught it with a small shake of her head. Her attention turned downwards, and the displeasure melted away from her face, replaced with blank surprise. “Vince Vincente?” Alex pulled the ID out of the wallet, her eyes stretching wide before they narrowed, scrutinizing the man in front of her. “You’re possessing Vince Vincente?” 

“Apparently.” Lucifer crossed the room with a half-hearted shrug. “Who is he?” 

“Just some has-been rockstar. He was huge like twenty-some years ago.” Alex shook her head, unable to help the frown that marred her face. “What happened to keeping a low profile?” 

Lucifer scoffed, and his wings rose up, spanning the entire room as his eyes burned orange. His grace rose up inside of her, a violent chill that left her hair standing on end. “Well?” He stretched out his arms. “What do you think?” 

“I think you look like a raccoon. What’s up with all the guyliner?” 

“You don’t like it?” Lucifer turned to look at himself in the mirror, one hand cupping his jaw. “I think it’s nice, all things considered. Very comfortable.” His hand fell away, and he turned back around; the dark flicker in his eyes was the only reaction to her displeasure. “How was the drive?” 

“Long.” Alex stepped further into the furnished room, hands planted on the back of a chair as she looked across it to the archangel. “Crowley found me not long after you burned up your last vessel. He’s looking for you — not for any good reasons, I’m afraid.” Her hands tightened their grip, digging into the leather, but Alex kept her face plain. “I don’t know if he’s working with the Winchesters or not.” 

“Did Crowley follow you?” Lucifer glided forward, and Alex’s folded wings rose ever so slightly, a faint, instinctual warning for him to keep his distance. Lucifer stopped on the other side of the black leather chair, his sunken face darkening, leaving Alex to quickly pull her wings back in, forcing neutrality. 

“He tried,” she muttered, running her fingers along the raised seam of the chair’s high back. “He left a hex bag in my car, but I took care of that a couple states over.” She released her grip on the chair and pushed it aside, and Lucifer stepped forward to fill its spot. “I hope you have some kind of a plan, because Crowley’s getting ready to jump on the offensive.”

“I’ve got a few ideas.” Lucifer’s wings curled forward, drawing her near, and Alex placed a hand on his chest. Her fingers slipped past the jacket, finding the thin shirt below. She could feel ribs and muscle beneath her fingertips, and her hand hesitated only a moment before it jerked back. Lucifer’s frustration bubbled beneath his skin, tangible as it rose up towards the surface, and she smoothed down the edges of his jacket to cover her hasty retreat. “You don’t like it,” she heard him say, his voice flat, and Alex’s wings drooped. 

“It’s … not my type,” she admitted after a moment’s pause, and she reached up, fingers dancing lightly over the sharp jawline. Lucifer’s head tipped down, granting access, and Alex felt along the nape of his neck before she pulled away. “I’m not a huge fan of his music, either,” she added. “I — I mean, it’s not bad — Sam seems to like it — but I —“

She cut off as a finger pressed up against her lips. “You’ll get used to it.” Lucifer brushed past her, leaving Alex’s feathers to rustle uncomfortably. She felt him stop on the other side of her, and she turned, wings drawn to avoid brushing against him. “You didn’t like Nick either at first, if I remember correctly.” He turned, dark eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What did you ever end up seeing in it? Nick was so …” Lucifer paused, mouth open as he sought after the right word. “So bleh,” he finally finished. “You know, you never even knew the guy, but I had to _live_ with him.” 

His wings flicked distastefully, and Alex clamped her jaw shut until she felt some of the tension leave the archangel’s grace. “Just preferred it on you, I guess,” she said, and the next thing she knew, Lucifer’s wings were encircling her, a brief touch that quickly fell away. 

“It’s still me inside.” His eyes slid past her to catch sight of his reflection, and he took a moment to study himself once again. When he spoke again, the tenderness had left his voice. “I like it, so you better warm up to it. It’ll be sticking around for a while.” 

“Yeah, alright, Rocket. What’s the plan?” Lucifer’s eyes didn’t leave his reflection, and Alex jabbed a finger into his sternum. “Plan,” she repeated. “Crowley. What’s the plan with Crowley?” 

“Ah.” Lucifer’s eyes dropped back onto her, and he brushed aside her concern with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t worry. Do you really think dear old pops is just going to let him toss me back into that pit? You know, I think we maybe be able to finally put our differences aside —"

"Chuck's gone, Lucifer." Alex’s words hung in midair, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes on the archangel's face; the smile had vanished, leaving nothing but a blank look that tightened into hard lines. _He didn’t know_. Alex grimaced, and her shoulders fell as she softened her voice. "Crowley said he left with Amara, and no one knows when or if they're coming back." Her wings curled forward as Lucifer stepped away, quickly drawing back when he turned towards the window. “I’m sorry, Luce, I just found out myself.” 

“So he just left. Again.” Lucifer scoffed, a pitiful sound quickly concealed by another, harsher note. “Typical.” He fell silent, and his feathers bristled for a moment before he reined his emotions back under his control. Alex reached out with her grace, a tentative stretch towards his turmoil, but one second it was there, and the next … it simply wasn’t. “It doesn’t matter.” When Lucifer turned back around, his face bore none of the pain that had inhabited his voice mere seconds before. “We don’t need him. Do you know where Crowley is?” 

“No, I —” Alex cut off as Lucifer vanished, his crimson wings carrying him away, and she scowled at the empty room. “No, I don’t,” she muttered. With a heavy sigh, she settled her weight against the back of the chair. She had been so caught up in Crowley's threat that she hadn’t even stopped to consider what Lucifer would think of Chuck's disappearance. 

Her feet scuffed the wooden floor as she eyed the splintered door. What exactly had happened? A misunderstanding, Lucifer had called it. Some misunderstanding. _What's his goal here?_ Crowley's question teased the back of her mind, and Alex reached down to tug upon the thin thread of Lucifer's grace. What _was_ his plan? All he had spoken of was finding a vessel, but there must be more. There had to be more. A sudden shiver rose up her spine, aided by the chill of Lucifer's hooks within her. He would find a vessel eventually — Alex's eyes flickered upwards, a quick prayer that the one he wore now wasn't it — and when he did … 

"You look lost, _mohaoth_.” Lucifer’s voice had Alex reeling back, eyes wide to suddenly find the archangel so near. Her wings beat, broken vanes cutting through the air as she steadied herself. 

He was watching her, waiting for an answer, so Alex lifted her chin. “Where the hell did you go?” she snapped, quickly quelling the anger on her face. Lucifer’s grace had tremored, just ever so slightly, but she had felt it: was it anger or sadness that had caused it? One look up into his face had her grimacing. Maybe both. “Where did you go?” she repeated. “What was so urgent that you just had to leave in the middle of my sentence?” 

“Crowley.” Lucifer extended a hand, and Alex took it, wincing as his nails dug into her wrist. “If Dad has left the board, then you’re right. He’ll make a move for the throne. _My_ throne.” His grace twisted again, this time with rage, and his eyes fell onto their hands when Alex squeezed. “I needed one of my demons to confirm it. You said Crowley is looking for me? I think it’s time we paid him a visit.”

His wings opened up, carrying the both of them into the air before Alex could protest. She drew her wings in tight, eyes narrowed against the wind. One second she was in tow, cold wind whipping through her hair, and the next, she was back on solid ground. It took her only a second to recognize her surroundings; stone walls and floors, illuminated by torches, with a heat that sought to mimic the dry sulfuric air of hell. Needham Asylum. 

Lucifer pulled her down the hall, his wings ushering her closer to his side and, despite herself, Alex clung tightly to his hand, drawing upon his chill to fight off the unnatural heat. It wasn’t until the iron double doors came into sight that Lucifer extracted himself from her tight grip. His grace surged up, and the doors flew open with a _bang_. “They told me you’d be here.” The growled words seemed to rise above the crash, and Alex hesitated on the threshold as Lucifer stalked inwards. 

Crowley sat on the iron-wrought throne, a book in his hands. At the sound of their entrance, he lowered it to his lap, eyes darkening. For a second, they flickered over to Alex, a question rising deep within, but all he spoke was a single, "Really?" 

Lucifer's hands grabbed the armrest of the throne, and Crowley leaned back as the archangel's face hovered mere inches from his. "Get off my furniture, squatter," he hissed, and Alex jumped as the doors swung shut. For a moment, the pair were frozen, two lions on the verge of drawing blood; Alex’s feet immediately carried her forward, mouth open to break the trance before it came to blows.

"Lucifer." To her surprise, Crowley spoke first, his voice as calm as Alex had ever heard it. "Wearing Vince Vincente, second-tier star." He paused, folding his book and placing it in his lap, and the corner of his lips turned into a smirk. "I would've thought Bieber was more your style." 

His eyes slid over onto Alex, but Lucifer's hands on his jacket reclaimed his attention. "You're either mad or dim." Lucifer’s fingers clenched before they released, and he stalked away from the throne, his wings stretching across the room. 

With a thin scowl directed at Lucifer’s turned back, Crowley straightened the lapels of his suit, covering the action with a sharp clearing of his throat. "I have a proposal," he said, and Lucifer spun around. "I mean, why in hell would you want to rule over a motley, witless crew of demons? God's on sabbatical again.” He paused for barely a second, just long enough for emphasis before continuing on. “You could reclaim heaven. Now, that's real estate that's worth ruling. I can handle the branch office." 

Lucifer’s grace churned through the air, chilling the bitter heat, and Alex slunk closer to his side. "Hmm." Lucifer crossed his arms, tapping his chin as Crowley's face darkened. "Or … I could raise my hand, smite you into oblivion." 

He lifted his hand, fingers poised, but a rustle from the left drew his attention away. " _Manete. Manete._ " The shadows swirled, and from within them, a figure emerged. Her hand was outstretched, fingers pointed towards Lucifer, and Alex's wings snapped outwards with a snarl. Rowena. Her feet tried to carry her forward, but Rowena's hand turned onto her. " _Manete_."

The spell had her limbs freezing, and Alex's grace twisted, trapped deep beneath her skin. "Problem?" Crowley rose to his feet, hands in his pockets as he sauntered forward. Rowena's mantra grew softer, but it lost none of its intensity, and Alex struggled against the spell in vain. "Mummy's little paralyzing spell. Trust me, it works." 

"Trust me." Lucifer's cold grace coiled within her, tight as a spring, and from her peripheral, she watched his eyes flash orange. "Not for long." 

The corner of Crowley's mouth twisted into a smirk, and his eyes turned from Lucifer onto Alex. "I have to say," he said, "I was starting to think you weren't going to come through. Not after that little trick you played with my tracking spell." His eyes glinted, but no anger crept into his voice. "That truck driver you planted it on paid for your transgression, I'm afraid, but that's the name of business." The muscles in Alex's wings twitched, but Rowena's spell pressed down upon them, keeping them frozen in place. "But, small hiccups aside, here you both are."

"I didn't —"

Alex's protest was drowned out by Lucifer's growl. "Save your breath. I know you didn’t turn her against me.." Crowley tsked, and from his pocket he produced a small glass orb, no larger than the palm of his hand. "Holy water?" Lucifer scoffed. "Yeah? Ooh, ouch." 

"Well, actually, it's top-shelf sulfuric acid." Crowley hefted the sphere in his hand as Lucifer scoffed again. "Harmless to you, I know, but to both of your vessels … not so much." His hand flicked, and the glass orb shattered against Lucifer's chest. Alex tried to flinch as the cold liquid splashed across her face, but the spell held her still. The cold began to tingle, and then it exploded into tongues of heat. Her flesh was on fire, crackling and bubbling like a campfire in her ears, but the sound was lost beneath her hoarse scream. If it hadn’t been for Rowena's mantra, she would have fallen, writhing, to the ground. She could hear Lucifer's own screech, mingling with her own. His grace thrummed within her chest, first with pain, then with surmounting fury. "Now." Crowley's voice was calm beneath their screams. "His essence, send it back to the Cage." Rowena's chanting shifted, growing in power and intensity, and Alex clawed at her eyes as the paralyzing spell loosened its grip on her upper half. She could feel where the acid had eaten away at her skin, leaving deep, raw holes down to the pitted bone. "Sorry to do this, kitten,” — Crowley’s words, directed at her, barely registered — "but I'm sure he'll enjoy the company." Alex couldn’t summon the strength to answer; her attention was on her skin, nails raking away the bubbled and twisted layers in a desperate attempt to scrape away the pain. "Mother!" Crowley's sharp, sudden call cut through her pain, and Alex forced her eyes open; Rowena’s mantra had ceased. 

The room was little more than a blur, fuzzy and grey, but Alex could just barely make out Rowena as the witch took one step back. " _Manete!_ " Her voice was shaking. " _Manete!_ " 

Lucifer's grace wriggled inside of Alex, tearing through the bindings of Rowena's hex, and Crowley's jaw visibly tightened. "It's not working," he warned. 

Rowena's voice quivered, but her chanting didn't stop until Lucifer's grace snapped through the air, shattering the confines of the spell. His shoulders rolled back as he straightened up, and the air began to glow, casting shadows of his wings on the stone walls. "Bad, bad Crowley." Lucifer tsked, and Alex's legs gave out as the last tendrils of the force that had held her up finally slipped away. The sound of heels dragging against concrete filled her ears, and Alex's grace, now free, writhed as it fought against the acid that burned at her cheeks. "You spoil that boy," she heard Lucifer chastise, and her free hand found his pant leg and held on tight. The brush of the coarse denim felt like fire on her bared nerves, but Alex forced her fingers to stay closed around her salvation. 

Cold hands hooked under her arms and pulled her up, holding her when her legs threatened to give out. She felt Lucifer's grace move along her skin, the cool soothing the burns and mending the raw skin. "Luce." She whimpered out the name as the pain began to melt away, and the hands moved up to her face, the palms cupping her cheek as the fingers rested on her closed eyes. 

Alex reached up, covering his hands with her own before she gently brushed them aside. When she opened her eyes, the room came into focus, blurry at first, but gaining clarity as she looked around. Crowley was gone — a quick look at the frown on Lucifer's face confirmed that he had fled. Rowena stood at Lucifer's side, chin lifted to hide the fear that gripped her limbs. 

Pain brought her attention down onto her hands, and Alex barely held back a whimper at the wounds. The skin on her palms had burned away, leaving muscle and tendons exposed to the open air. A cry was punched from her lungs as Lucifer grabbed her hands, the brush of his skin against her exposed nerves sending jolts of fire up her spine. The rush of pain was immediately followed by relief as Lucifer's grace delved into her wounds, ice on an open flame. His forehead pressed up against hers, and Alex's eyes flickered closed. 

Then Lucifer yanked his hands back, leaving Alex to jump as his grace suddenly vanished. The archangel's face had darkened, and his wings drew in tightly as he turned away, crossing the room to drop down on the iron throne. Rowena followed — more like dragged, Alex corrected. Her feet didn't move, but she was pulled across the floor, her heels scraping against the stone. Alex tore her eyes away to look down at her hands, turning them over to examine the new skin. It was soft beneath her fingerpads, pink and void of the thin white scars collected from years of hunting. "Alex." Lucifer motioned her over with a crooked finger, and Alex didn't hesitate to cross to his side. The faint tinge of pink along his cheek was the only indication that the acid had touched him, and his eyes were dark. "Crowley's going to pay for this." 

Alex scrubbed at her chin, wincing at the memory of the pain. "Good," she muttered, and her eyes dropped down onto Rowena. The witch was now sitting beside the throne, her eyes focused on the far wall as she clenched her jaw. 

Lucifer's eyes never left her, his finger tapping against his chin as he thought. "You know," he began slowly, and he twisted his wrist as his grace shifted, turning Rowena to face the angels. "I got to say, Rowena, I took one look at you, and all I wanted was to snap your miserable neck again." Anger lit up his eyes, quickly quelled as he looked down at the witch. "And keep it snapped this time. But … I think I've decided against it." 

Alex squared her jaw as a relieved breath fell from Rowena's lips, and the witch rose to her feet, smoothing down the front of her dress to hide her trembling. "You won't regret it, sir," she whispered. "I'm done with all this. I'll stay far, far away, sipping martinis with republicans at my tennis club." 

Lucifer grinned, his teeth catching in the torchlight as he glanced over at Alex. "You're missing my point." He chuckled, the sound cold and hollow. "A witch as gifted as yourself, with access to the Book of the Damned to boot, would be much more valuable as a prisoner." He pushed himself to his feet, the height of his vessel sending him towering over the witch. "How's that saying go? Mm, friends close … enemies closer." 

His hand grabbed Rowena's shoulder, and she shrieked as his fingers dug into her flesh as his wings flared out. The other hand extended towards Alex, and the moment she caught his wrist, they were gone. Wind crashed against Alex’s face as they took off into the air, and she tucked herself into his side, broken wings curled around her as they hurdled through the air. 

The room they landed in was wood-paneled and darkly lit. Alex stepped away from Lucifer, shaking out her wings as she turned her eyes across the walls. There were windows on the far side, but the incandescent lighting reflected off of the glass, keeping her from peering out into the night. "Where are we?" 

"One of this vessel's cabins." Lucifer stepped away from Rowena, scowling as the witch's eyes darted around, torn between freezing in fear and running to cower to the corner. Alex turned back around, head cocked, and the archangel's sneer faded. "What? He's not using it."

Alex huffed, a thin attempt at amusement. "So … we're just going to hole up here." 

"For now." Lucifer's voice was stiff, and his eyes drifted across the room; the way his eyes skipped across her had Alex's lips pursing. 

When silence followed, Alex pushed her grace up against his, and her frown deepened into a scowl when he pushed her away. "What about her?" she spat, flicking a wing toward Rowena. 

"She'll have to stick with us." Lucifer turned away, and Alex crossed her arms as he sauntered over to the witch. "What do you think, Red?" To Rowena's credit, she didn't flinch even when he stopped toe-to-toe with her. "You see, first, I'm thinking that you do some work on this vessel, hmm?" His eyes turned towards a wall-mounted mirror, tinted with dust, and he tilted his chin upwards to reveal a faint fissure sitting just beneath his jaw. Rowena's mouth opened, but Lucifer silenced her with a raised hand. "Ah. Not quite yet." With a snap of his fingers, iron shackles weighed down Rowena's wrists, the carved sigils glowing blue before they faded. "Tomorrow." 

Alex pushed open the patio door and stepped outside, suppressing a shiver at the cold night air. A pair of wooden chairs sat overlooking the darkened lawn, but Alex chose to drop down on the stairs, her knees drawn up against her chest as she looked out towards the tree line. Lucifer's grace had drawn away, a thin net separating her from Castiel, and Alex pushed against it, projecting as much of her frustration towards it as she could. It pulled away further, and with a rush of anger, Alex ducked under it, thrusting her grace up against her mate's. 

The response was instantaneous. Castiel's grace came alive, swelling within her as thousands of questions pummeled into her head. Seconds later, the sound was drowned out by Lucifer, an avalanche that buried everything it touched. 

The door behind her flew open, crashing into the siding, and Alex forced her wings to stay flat against her back. She could feel Lucifer's gaze, like frostbite on her skin. She kept her eyes turned outwards, and after a few seconds, the chill disappeared. The door slammed, and Alex's face tightened as she was left alone. Something was wrong. 

**S** he wasn't sure how long she sat alone, lost in her thoughts. Long enough for the horizon to glow with the grey light of dawn. Castiel's grace was buried once again, far out of reach, and Alex shifted uncomfortably against the wall of ice. Every once and a while she would reach up, scrubbing at her neck where Lucifer's eyes had stung her, but she refused to look back in search of him. Her fingernails dug into the side of a stick she had found, stripping off the bark and discarding it off the steps. 

Eventually, the door did open again, and Alex shifted to the side as footsteps approached. She could feel Lucifer standing behind her, wings pinned stiffly against his back, and she finally tilted her head upwards. "Where's Rowena?" 

"Inside." The words cut off curtly, and Alex's feathers prickled. "Does Castiel know where we are?" 

Alex patted the step next to her, waiting for the archangel to sit down before she responded. "I don't think so. He's looking for me, though." She cast Lucifer a look out of the corner of her eye, frowning to see that his eyes were distant. 

"I'm going to kill him." 

Lucifer spoke the words so quietly, so casually, that it took Alex a moment to process what exactly he had said. The next second, though, she was on her feet, wings snapping up into the air. "No!" She spun around, eyes wide as she looked down at the devil. "You can't kill him!" 

"I will." Lucifer stood, and Alex's feet carried her a step back so she could look up into his face. "Those Winchesters too, but him …" He clicked his tongue, and Alex cried out as his hands grabbed her face, cold fingers burning against her skin. "I think I'm getting soft, letting him live for so long. I told you I would kill him a long, long time ago, and it’s about time I kept my word.” Alex pried herself free from his hold, eyes glowing in a pale attempt at intimidation, but Lucifer’s gaze had already moved on. Alex kicked at the bark shavings she had discarded, casting a low glare back towards the cabin, and after a moment, Lucifer’s eyes followed hers. “Well, it looks like you’re getting your wish of keeping Rowena around.” 

“That was never a wish.” Alex dropped down onto the steps, fingers clenched as she sought to ignore the quiver in her limbs. “I don’t want to keep her close. Just kill her again.” She heard Lucifer chuckle, a low, barely there sound, and she scooped up her stick. “She’s just going to find a new way to screw us over. That’s all she did.” She thrust the stick into the ground with a small growl. “And I hate how she grovels.” 

Lucifer’s hand rested on her shoulder, and Alex shrugged it off, slouching forward to rest her elbows on her thighs. “If she can make this vessel stronger, it will be worth it.” The hand hovered above her for only a second longer before it pulled away, and Alex gripped the stick so tightly it cracked. “For now, we’ll just have to keep her near, whether we like it or not.” 

Alex swung her eyes upwards as her lips parted, but at the sight of Lucifer’s frown, she opted for a sigh instead of a curse. “Fine. Then what are we waiting for?” She pushed herself to her feet with a shake of her wings, not caring how her feathers crashed into Lucifer’s side. 

A growl rumbled in his chest, reverberating into his grace, and Alex pinned her wings against her back as he pushed past her. “Later.” His voice remained neutral and, with a frown, Alex followed him back into the cabin. “I have something to do first. A condition for taking this vessel.”

“Condition?” Alex repeated, sparing Rowena a quick scowl before returning her attention to Lucifer. The witch was in the corner, seated at a single, bare table. Despite the shackles, her head was held high, chin pointed out the window with such a calm grace, it was difficult to believe she was a prisoner and not a guest. “What’s that mean?” 

“I had to make Vince a promise.” Lucifer’s eyes dropped down to his hands, lips twisting at the small spots of red that had burned into his skin. His gaze returned to her, and the frown faded into something more serious. “And I always keep my promises.” 

Alex's lips tightened, but she was saved from spitting out a response by Rowena’s scoff. “Right. You’re a regular boy scout.”

“Better watch your mouth there, Red.” The corner of Lucifer’s lips curled, revealing a hint of teeth. Shackles clicked as Rowena ducked her head, and Lucifer’s eyes slid onto Alex, the snarl fading. “We made a deal a long time ago. I don’t lie. Not to her.” Alex’s wings arched upwards, but she forced them down with a tight-lipped smile. 

Rowena’s eyes had lifted, unable to disguise her curiosity at the exchange, and Alex shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans. “You were talking about a condition,” she said, folding her wings tightly against her back. “What do you have to do?” 

“Vince has a sister living in California.” Lucifer’s voice grew brisk, and Alex watched him circle to stand behind Rowena. “A car accident left her with two shattered femurs and a cracked lumbar disc. She’s been unable to walk since.” His eyes slid towards the mirror. “In exchange for the new ride, I had to promise I’d give her legs back.” 

“Negotiation? You’re getting soft.” Alex’s words were met with a sharp look, and she huffed. “I’m coming with.” 

Lucifer’s fingers dragged down Rowena’s arms, the light in his eyes revealing his pleasure at how the witch flinched away from his touch. “No can do. I’m not letting Rowena stay anywhere all by herself.” 

“And I’m not babysitting,” Alex retorted, straightening up under his frown. “So I guess you’ll just have to take both of us.” 

_You’re not being reasonable._ Lucifer’s voice rang through her head, sharp and chastising, and Alex’s grace shied away as she felt veins of anger pulse through him. _Or are you just set on being difficult?_ Alex lifted her chin, and the archangel’s lips parted ever so slightly. _You’re forgetting your place, little lamb. I am not Castiel._

He turned away, pausing at the sight of his reflection on the mirror. For a moment he was silent, hands gently feeling their way across his chin, and Alex watched as his eyes narrowed in contemplation. _We’ll talk later._ Those three words sent a shiver running down her spine, and she took a step back, settling down against the wooden planks of the cabin wall. The coarse wood caught against her rumpled feathers, and it took her a second to settle in, shoulders hunched as she sullenly watched the scene before her. “Hey, Red, you got any beauty spells locked up in that witchy brain of yours?” 

Rowena’s eyes widened, flickering between the two angels as she hesitated, mouth slightly parted at the sudden jump in the conversation. “E-Excuse me, my lord?” 

Lucifer’s eyes didn’t leave his mirror image. “Thought this one would last a bit longer before going all Keith Richards on me. This vessel hopping’s getting old.” He turned away, and Alex watched a hint of resignation flicker across his face, gone so quickly it may have never existed. “Just as I get used to the limitations of one meatsack, I gotta cut bait and jump to the next flawed lump.” 

“Then you want me to make this vessel permanent?” Rowena asked. “Strong enough to hold you?” 

“No,” Alex snapped at the same time that Lucifer nodded. Two sets of eyes turned onto her, and Alex crossed her arms, fingers dug into her biceps as she reluctantly dropped her gaze. 

She felt Lucifer’s attention on her linger, a cold that crawled beneath her skin and settled across her bones. It lasted only a moment before it turned away, but the breath Alex exhaled felt like it had sat in her lungs a lifetime. “It does look good on me,” she heard him say, and she watched his hands brush against his chin before they swept through his hair. “Show me what you got, Red.” 

“I-I-I’d help,” Rowena started, “I would, but I don’t have the Book of the Damned. I lost it.” 

Alex cocked an eyebrow, a look mimicked by the archangel. His hands fell to his side as his face darkened. “You know damned well where you put it,” he growled, and his eyes glinted as he took a step towards the witch. “Did you see what I did there?” he asked, and white teeth flashed. “Damned.” He chuckled, but the sound was cold. “Besides, you don’t _need_ the Book. Clever girl like you must have it all up here by now.” 

He tapped his temple as he stopped in front of Rowena, and Alex pushed herself off of the wall, taking two steps towards him before she stopped. “And if I refuse?” Rowena’s chin was lifted, defiance in her voice despite the faint tremor in her fingers. 

“I snap your neck again.” Lucifer’s fingers danced across her hair, trailing down the side of her face until they reached the hollow of her throat. They fell away as Rowena swallowed, and his smile fell away. “Only this time, I’ll rip your head clean off afterwards. Hm?” 

Rowena’s eyes dropped to the ground, and Lucifer turned away. The grin returned, a moment of pleasure at the thought of his threat that faded as Rowena spoke. “I-I’ll need ingredients,” she said. “Hawthorn ash, betony. Dried eyebright, if we can find it. Vervain —” 

Lucifer’s grace twisted, and the shackles fell from Rowena’s wrists, clattering against the wooden floor. “I guess it’s decided. First stop, Vince’s sister, and then from there …” His fingers threaded through her hair, yanking her head back so she could look him in the eyes, and his feathers shimmered in the light of dawn. “Remember to mind your manners, Red. I might be enlisting your help, but I don’t _need_ you.” 

Rowena’s head tilted back to alleviate the devil’s grip, but her voice remained steady. “You won’t regret it,” she promised, and Alex rolled her eyes at the honey that dripped from her tone. 

“You’re right. I won’t.” Lucifer relinquished his hold with a flick of his wings. His grace stretched out, curling around Alex to draw her near, and he slung his arms around Alex’s and Rowena’s shoulder with a grin. The crooked smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, as cold as his grace, and Alex couldn’t help but shiver as his voice purred in her ear. “This is going to be fun.” 

**A** n hour’s time found Alex back inside the cabin, leaning against the wall as she watched Rowena work. Upon their return from the morning’s errands, Lucifer hadn’t replaced the witch’s chains, leaving her hands free and busy. Lucifer himself stood in the center of the room, his discarded shirt at his feet. His bare chest was decorated with an interwoven design of sigils and glyphs, all drawn in a deep grey paste made from crushed berries and ash from a small crystal vial. The oldest sections of the design had begun to dry, and small cracks in the paint were growing with each breath the archangel took. 

_“Vince … what did you do?”_ The memory of Wendy’s horror replayed in Alex’s head, and her toe scuffed at the wooden floor. Lucifer had stepped away from her, his hands falling back to his side, and Wendy’s nails dug into the armrests of her wheelchair as she stared up at the archangel. Her legs moved, slowly at first; a twitch here, a shift of the toe there. Her face paled, eyes stretched wide before they flickered onto Alex. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “What did you do?” 

Alex shifted from where she stood, arms crossed as she tried to find something — anything — for her attention to focus on other than that memory. Lucifer’s voice was in her head, a low, melodic hum, and Alex’s fingers dug into her sleeves. He had been singing for the better part of the hour, a continual loop of the same three lines over and over and over — _Would you stop that?_ She shoved her hands into her pocket as she snapped her eyes towards Lucifer, and the singing stopped. _It’s getting annoying._

 _You don’t like my singing?_ The corner of Lucifer’s lips twitched upwards in a small grin. He lifted up an arm as Rowena stepped closer, pausing only long enough to dip her finger into the bowl in her hands before she started on a sigil beneath his ribs. “You know,” he said aloud, and Rowena jumped, eyes wide until she realized that the devil wasn’t addressing her, “if I’m going to be a rockstar, I need to practice.” 

_You’re not a rockstar,_ Alex retorted, eyes narrowing. _This is a mistake, keeping this vessel. He’s too high profile, too …_

_Old_? Lucifer met her gaze. _I think you’ve mentioned that._ His wings twitched, crimson feathers catching in the light, and Alex rolled her eyes. _When this is over, we’ve got some things to talk about. Like your attitude._

<>Bite me. The thought was there before she could stop herself, and Alex squared her jaw as she tore her eyes away, glaring down at the warped floor. 

_I could._ Alex couldn’t see his face, but the amusement in his tone told her enough. _And I’m tempted._ She let her eyes flicker back up just long enough to see Rowena step away from him, dropping them once again as Lucifer lowered his arms back to his sides. _I swear,_ he said, his voice a low hum in the forefront of her mind. _Sometimes I think if you weren’t so damn —_

“I’m almost done.” Rowena broke the silence, and Lucifer’s connection severed as his attention snapped down to the witch. 

“And what exactly is this?” he asked, his fingers ghosting across the drying swirls that decorated his body. Alex flicked her wings out before she drew them in close, and she dug her teeth into her lip as she watched. A low buzz was resonating in her chest — nerves, it has to be — nerves that grew every time Rowena's fingers dragged across Lucifer's bare chest.

“Ash of a hawthorn tree,” came the leveled response, and Alex folded her arms across her chest.. 

Red feathers flittered in the air as Lucifer’s wings twitched, but his voice remained expressionless. “And the pattern?” 

“A druidic glyph. I’m using a hybrid spell of my own device.” Rowena set the bowl down and walked around Lucifer, taking a moment to inspect her handiwork with a quiet hum. Lucifer’s gaze turned onto Alex, a question in his eyes, and Alex immediately looked away, listening to the clicking of Rowena's heels as the witch returned to stand in front of Lucifer. “Book of the Damned and celtic magic. Should give your vessel the resilience and strength of the mightiest tree.” 

“There’s a ‘woody’ joke in there somewhere,” Lucifer teased, and Alex felt his eyes turn onto her. Amusement flickered through the air, but when she kept her lips sealed, toeing at a knot in the floorboards, the amusement soured. “Let’s get back to that nagging little word ‘should,’ ” she heard Lucifer rumble. 

Rowena's breath caught, silence hanging in the air, and Alex looked over in time to watch Lucifer seize her by the chin, tilting the witch’s head upwards so their eyes met. “I-I can’t promise the spell will last forever,” she got out through clenched teeth, her voice hoarse from where Lucifer's fingers dug into her throat. “There’s no magic for that. But it will last.” 

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, flickering across her face as he searched for a hint of deception. The action lasted only a second before his lips tightened, and Rowena’s breath hitched as his hand fell away. Rowena wasted no time in scurrying back to the small oak table decorated with the multitude of herbs and candles. Her head was ducked, gaze downcast, but a glimmer of unmistakable anger darkened her face. Alex watched her go with a tight-lipped frown, only turning her eyes back onto Lucifer when the witch’s back was to her. _Are you sure you want this?_ she asked. _It’s not too late —_

 _Too late to go hunting for a vessel you prefer?_ The answer came as a reprimand in her mind, and Alex’s toes curled. _Always about what you want, never about what I do. Selfish, selfish, selfish —_

“The final step.” Rowena had returned to Lucifer’s side, the smoldering branch of a willow tree in her hands. Lucifer lifted his chin, nostrils flared as the pungent smoke wafted upwards, and his crimson wings twitched, lifting up to make room for the witch as she passed by. “Permission to speak, dark lord?” she intoned. The archangel merely blinked, and Alex huffed as his grace flicked against hers. “If — _when,_ ” Rowena corrected, “ _when_ the spell succeeds and you are restored to your former glory —”

“Will I kill you?” Lucifer finished, and his teeth flashed in a grin directed towards Alex; the young angel merely rolled her eyes. 

Rowena hesitated at Lucifer’s back. She took a moment before she spoke again, but when she did, her voice was crisp and clear. “I can be of value beyond this spell.” 

Lucifer’s eyes sought out Alex again; this time, his grin was tight-lipped and cold, closer to a sneer than any expression of pleasure. “We’ll see.” 

“Thank you, my liege.” Rowena came to a stop in front of him, and she placed her hand upon Lucifer’s chest, fingers splayed to encompass the central glyph. Alex pushed herself off of the wall, barely able to hold back a scoff; at the sound, Rowena held out a hand. “Best stay back,” she warned, and Alex paused in her tracks. “This spell has a bit of a kick to it.” Alex glanced over at Lucifer and, with a small frown, returned to her place against the wall, wings tucked in and arms crossed. Satisfied, Rowena turned her eyes back onto Lucifer, his fingers curling so her nails rested against his pale skin. She waited, letting the cabin lapse into a moment of silence before she spoke. “Fes … ti .. na!” 

The air crackled, and Rowena backed away from Lucifer, her hand still outstretched. The sigil on Lucifer’s chest flashed red and then white, and the archangel grunted. The sore on his cheek was getting larger, and the skin around his chest was rapidly darkening, rotting away from the inside. “Red." Lucifer's voice rumbled through the cabin, a dark and menacing warning. "What did you do?” 

He stepped forward at the same moment that Alex leapt forward, but a sharp " _Manete_!” sent a wall of air into Alex, freezing her limbs and pinning her against the cabin wall. An invisible hand gripped her throat, fingers digging into her windpipe, and the angel fought back a gasp. “I sped up the decaying process, my lord,” Rowena said; the spoken epithet was laced with poison, and the witch’s red lips curled into a sneer. “You thought Keith Richards was bad? Try Iggy Pop!” 

Lucifer hissed, and Alex felt his grace roil against hers, fighting against Rowena’s spell in a desperation that never made it past the rage on his face. “Oh, decapitation is far too merciful for you, ginger bitch!” he growled; a wordless snarl was punched out of him as the spell dug deeper, eating away at his flesh. The sound rose into a shout as the air turned hot, followed by a flash of burning white light, and Alex flinched away. Rowena stood beside the table, a smoking bowl in her hands, and Lucifer’s grace thrashed in against the air. “No!” he snarled. “You can’t destroy me!” 

The desperation in his voice renewed Alex’s own struggle. She clawed at her invisible bonds, teeth grit as she tried to dig her grace in, pushing and probing for any chinks, any cracks in the wall. “ _Manete_!” The command had the barrier strengthening tenfold, and Alex stifled a breathy hiss. “I can’t destroy you,” Rowena agreed, “but I can send you both far, far away. Try finding a new vessel at the bottom of the bloody ocean. _Abi_!” 

Several things exploded all at once. The first was the room as Rowena’s spell sent white sparks flying in every direction. The second was Lucifer’s grace; the force of it inside of Alex’s chest punched a wordless shout from her lungs as it thrummed through her veins until her body could no longer contain it. Her eyes burned orange, and the spell that held her shattered with a crack that shook the cabin walls. 

Alex stumbled forward, her wings snapping out to catch her as she fought for her balance. Lucifer’s grace had vanished almost as quickly as it had come, and a wild look around showed the archangel nowhere in sight. “Lucifer?” 

Rowena’s gaze swung onto her, widening in surprise. “You —” Her eyes snapped down onto the metal bowl. “ _Abi!_ ”

“Something wrong?” Alex’s grace rose up, fueled by her anger, and the next thing she knew, Rowena was on the other side of the room. The wooden table hit the ground with a crash, sending the witch’s herbs and bowls every which way. From the largest bowl came a cloud of ash, and Alex sneered at the sight of two charred strips of parchment. “You used our names to target us.” She stepped forward, heel grinding the paper to dust. “And let me guess — you didn’t know my name’s not actually ‘Alex.’ ”

Rowena’s lips parted in a breathless cry, and Alex’s anger momentarily abated to find her grace still wrapped around the witch’s throat, pinning her against the wall. She released her hold, and Rowena gasped. “I thought you of all people would be happy,” Rowena spat. “You hated that bloody ve—”

“Shut up!” Alex flared her nostrils, and her fists balled at the scent of Rowena’s blood. “We should have killed you the moment we had the chance — what are you doing?” The smell of blood was growing, and Rowena’s hands hadn’t moved out from behind her back. “Rowena!”

“Not all spells need names.” The witch’s voice was little more than a rasp, and as she straightened up, Alex caught sight of the bloody drawing scraped into the wooden paneling. Her wings flared, feet carrying her one step forward, but Rowena was faster. “I'll see you in hell.” Her bloody palm slammed into the sigil, which exploded in flames with a _boom_ that rattled Alex’s very bones. The impact carried her off her feet, slamming into her like a brick wall, and then the room simply vanished, sending Alex headfirst into endless darkness.


	4. American Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun little one-shot chapter featuring, upon their request, my take on one of Lewamusprime2016 oc's. Not really plot-driven, but I had fun writing it!

**S** he was laying somewhere wet. That thought was the first thing to enter Alex’s mind as her eyes flickered open. How long had she been laying there? The dampness had soaked through her clothes, leaving her chilled to the bone, and Alex shivered. A while, apparently. With a groan, she planted her hands against the ground, wincing at how the wet dirt squelched between her fingers as she heaved herself up onto her trembling feet. She was in a forest, surrounded by thick, towering red pines. The ground she had been laying on, she noted with a grimace, was little more than a shallow puddle clogged with dirt and fallen needles. “Gross.” The spoken word rasped in her throat, but even it seemed too loud for the silent woods. She shook out her wings to chase away the damp chill, eyes turning upwards towards the sky; judging by the sun, it had been hours — perhaps even a full day — since Rowena had cast her away. 

Rowena. The name sat on her tongue, sharp and sour, and Alex tried to spit onto the ground, but her parched lips produced no moisture. Her legs trembled underneath her, and she leaned up against the nearest tree, her tattered wings scratching against the red, flaky bark. It wasn’t just her legs that shook, she noted bleakly. Her whole body felt as weak as a newborn lamb; even her grace was weighed down with exhaustion. Her strength faltered, and she dropped down into a crouch in the dirt, one hand planted against the soft pine litter to keep her steady as she closed her eyes. That spell that Rowena had used … 

Alex pried a stick out from the mud, and she began to scratch the sigil into the dirt, frowning at the unnatural twists and curves. It was unlike anything she had seen before, baring only the faintest resemblance to the angel banishing sigil she had become acquainted with. The adjoining circles gave the appearance of a tilted figure eight, its exterior decorated with a variety of small, evenly spaced runes. 

With a sigh, Alex tossed away the stick and picked herself up off of the ground, using the tree as a momentary crutch as the forest seemed to spin. The land off to her right sloped steeply upwards, its peak disappearing into the canopy above. _Heading up means a better look at your surroundings_ , a small voice nagged, and Alex’s shoulders slumped. That hill looked like a long way up. If only Lucifer ...

“Lucifer?” She spoke the name out loud, eyes turned up towards the cloudless sky as a sudden jolt of adrenaline coursed through her veins: how had she forgotten? She scrubbed at her head, digging deep into the fog that obscured her memories. “Are you — are you okay?” 

No answer came, and Alex closed her eyes as she felt for his grace. It took a moment — she wasn’t sure if it had been Rowena’s spell or that power behind Lucifer’s grace as it had surged through her system that left her own grace numb and floundering — but she was able to breathe a sigh of relief to find his presence within her. It didn’t move as she prodded it, and the hooks that it had used to latch itself to her felt stretched thin; wherever Lucifer was, it was far, far away. 

A crow cried its warning call somewhere over her head, ripping Alex free from her thoughts, and her eyes turned back up the hill. A climb like that would be exhausting, but if it could give her some sense of where she was … With a sigh, Alex started up the slope, her wings dragging behind her. The trees grew straight and tall, seemingly untouched by human hands, and the higher she climbed, the denser the forest got. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had been walking for when she reached a clearing. No more than an hour, surely, but her feet already hurt, and the cold weight of weariness in her bones only added to her body’s aches. She paused beside a dying tree to look out at the land behind her, and her shoulders sunk at the expanse of wilderness that lay as far as her eyes could see. She was in the middle of absolutely nowhere. 

The sun had reached the peak of its climb, and Alex narrowed her eyes against its glare as she turned to her left. Nothing but hills and trees — 

There. A brick chimney was barely visible through the pines, and Alex’s gaze passed over it before her head swiveled back. That was a cabin. She couldn’t see much beyond the chimney — it could be abandoned and dilapidated for all that she could tell — but a house meant a road. And all roads would eventually lead to civilization. 

Alex’s wings tremored, and she slumped against the tree as she sized up the distance between her and the cabin. It was a mile, at least twice the distance she had already come, but at least the journey was downhill. Even still, she took a few moments to rest against the log before she pushed herself back to her weary feet. It was a long way down. 

**T** he going was slow. Alex kept a steady pace, focusing on distant trees to make sure she didn’t stray from the straight path she had set. As the minutes ticked by and she began to fear that she had missed her mark altogether, only then did she finally catch sight of a break in the trees twenty feet to her left. It wasn’t wide, but the packed dirt and faint tire treads made it clear that this path was touched by human hands. Alex scrambled through a patch of undergrowth, forcing through the thorns that caught on her jeans as she fought her eagerness to get to the road. The cabin had to be just ahead; she could see its wooden exterior through the trees. 

Alex followed the road towards it, slipping back into the safety of the forest as she drew near. From the outside, the cabin appeared dark and silent, and Alex drew her wings in close. Her grace sat stubbornly inside of her, too weak to reach out and investigate, and the young angel hesitated on the tree line, eyes narrowed as she studied the darkened window. The two-storied structure was small — no more than three or four rooms at most — and a set of slanted doors sat along a concrete base, a heavy chain locking the entrance to the basement. 

The front door, on the other hand, showed no signs of impediment. A truck sat a few feet off, parked in the shadows of the looming shadows of the trees. Despite the rust that sat along the peeling paint, the vehicle’s tires shone, their tread deep and black. The faint odor of gasoline clung to the air around it, and Alex drew in a deep breath. Stale, but not old. Someone had to be nearby. 

Alex circled the premises, peering at the yellow-paned windows, but the blinds were drawn in each room, keeping out her prying eyes. With a frown, she returned to the front, her wings flicking in displeasure. Apart from the car, there were no signs of life, no sounds from inside the cabin walls, and a quick glance upwards showed that the sun was still high. Perhaps the inhabitant had gone into the woods and hadn’t yet returned. 

She crossed the clearing and knocked on the door. No answer. The young angel hesitated and, with a shrug, she tried the doorknob. 

Unlocked. The door swung open, leaving Alex peering into the darkness. There wasn’t much: a wooden table sat towards the far end, where a kitchenette had been assembled. A second door stood just to her left, pulled tightly shut, and just beyond it lay what appeared to be an open room. Living room, perhaps? “Hello?” Alex leaned inwards, ears pricked. “Anyone home?” 

No answer. With another shrug, Alex stepped inside, gently closing the door behind her. Waiting in here, at a table and out of the beating sun, felt like a better option than camping outside. She — 

The air froze around her, seizing her limbs and locking her into place. A squeak left Alex’s lips as her momentum was cut abruptly short, and her head whipped around as she searched for whatever ailed her. The cold, foreign tinge against her grace told her it was magic, through and through, but it took several seconds of scouring the dark to find the drawings located on either wall, trapping her in between. “Dammit!” 

There was a rustling above her. Alex’s eyes darted to the staircase as the garbled sound turned into footsteps. She grit her teeth, trying to force her grace to move, but fighting the spell felt like fighting against a retaining wall, and she gave up within seconds. The footfalls paused, just out of sight, and then the stranger stepped forward. 

Alex blinked. The man was young and thin, with brown eyes that looked young enough to belong to a child; they sat in stark contrast to the narrow face and the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. “Are you one of them?” The stranger’s voice rasped, rough from disuse, and Alex’s wings prickled. 

“No!” she spat. “You — them?” She whipped her head around, taking in the dark room as she forced composure back into her tone. “What do you mean by ‘them’? Who’s ‘them’? Who are _you_?”

“You’re not … an angel?” The stranger took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “I thought …” 

He trailed off, and the cabin fell into silence. Alex frowned and, when he didn’t continue his thought, she spoke. “I … I am,” she admitted. “For the most part, I mean. You … aren’t. Why are you hiding from the angels?” _Prophet?_ that voice in the back of her head guessed, but she pushed it away. “What’s your name?” 

“I … don’t know.” The stranger’s fists clench reflexively, once, twice, then stilled. “They’re after me — I know they are.” His eyes snapped onto the sigils, drawn carefully in white chalk. “Those — they’re supposed to trap you, I think. I … don’t remember.” 

“Okay.” Alex’s gaze followed his, and she quickly turned her attention away, afraid that the stranger might see the interest in her eyes. “Uh, what — what exactly do you remember, then?” 

The man’s face furrowed. “My mother,” he finally said. “I remember her face. And I remember a man with her.” 

“Your dad.” 

He shook his head. “No. No, not that. They were siblings, perhaps. They had the same eyes. My mother’s eyes.” Again, the stranger fell silent. “This was his,” he finally said. “This house. I remember him taking me up here. He taught me how to hunt.” 

“Well, it’s a nice spot for a vacation. Full of wildlife.” Alex watched his head tilt, and she fought the urge to purse her lips. “Listen, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not even supposed to be on this side of the — are we even in America?” She didn’t wait for a response. “My friend and I — we got separated because a witch got the jump on us. I’m just trying to get back to him.” 

The stranger’s head tipped, and Alex lifted her chin to keep from shying away from his piercing stare. “You’re telling the truth.” 

“Yeah.” 

“That wasn’t a question.” He crossed over to the wall, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief as he smudged one of the chalk-drawn runes and the pressure surrounding her limbs subsided. “I can tell when people are lying. I don’t know how I know,” he added after a moment, “I just do. Can you …”

“Oh. Sorry.” Alex stepped forward, and the man produced a stick of chalk from his pocket to replace the sigil he had erased. “My name’s Alex, by the way.” 

“Call me Zack.” Zack moved past her and, with a glance back towards the door, Alex followed.

“Is that your real name, or …” 

“I don’t know.” For a moment, Zack’s face went blank, his eyes dark with concentration. “I woke up in a field somewhere south of Milwaukee about a year ago. That’s the first thing that I remember since … since I lost all of my memories. I think I scared the poor farmer half to death, seeing me walk out of his corn.” Zack stopped beside the wooden table and picked up a worn paperback. “He had this in the back of his truck. One of the characters in it was named Zack and it felt … right, somehow.” 

_The Secret Life of —_ The title was faded, barely visible, and Alex caught only a glimpse of it before the book was dropped back onto the table. “Alright, Zack it is then.” Her eyes turned around the small kitchen, and they caught on a torn drawing pinned to the wall. The charcoal sketch was slightly smudged, the edges crinkled, but Alex pulled it off the wall with a frown. Despite the rushed, chaotic strokes, the image was clear. “Wendigo.” Alex turned to find Zack still standing beside the table, his eyes watching her every movement. “You don’t hunt deer, do you?” 

A scream ripped through her head, guttural and teeming with rage, and its impact against her skull almost sent Alex to her knees. Hands grabbed her, holding her steady before her head could crash into the counter, and it took Alex a moment to plant her hands against the edge of it and push herself upright. “Are you alright?” Zack’s voice sounded quiet, distant, and Alex blinked in rapid succession, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. 

“I’m okay.” She scrubbed at her ears, grimacing at how her mind seemed to vibrate in the aftermath. “You couldn’t hear —” Zack shook his head, and Alex did the same. “Makes sense. We, uh — we’re gonna have company real soon.” 

Zack’s eyes narrowed, distrusting, and they momentarily flickered towards the cabin door. “What was it you heard?” He stooped, picking something off of the wooden floorboards, and Alex shifted to the side with an apologetic grimace; the sketch had fallen from her hands.

“My friend.” She smoothed down her shirt as she straightened up, pretending to dust off her sleeves to hide her own embarrassment. “He, uh … I think he’s pretty pissed.” She felt Lucifer’s grace swell within her, and she fought it back, refusing to let it sweep her grace away along with it. Zack said something, but she didn’t catch the words. There was a crash above their heads, the wooden rafters creaking under the impact, and both sets of eyes turned upwards. 

Lucifer’s grace swelled again, and this time, Zack visibly shuddered. “Your friend is an angel, too.” 

“Yeah, he is —”

The door was thrown open, the cabin walls shuddering with the impact. Lucifer’s shape filled the doorway, and as he stepped into the room, his crimson wings rose upwards, stretching from wall to wall. Two steps further had him pausing, and his dark eyes burned orange. Zack’s trap. Alex winced, ready to spring forward to help, but before she could move, the sigils exploded in a burst of yellow flames. “Sanskrit.” The light in the archangel’s eyes faded, and he stepped forward. “You spelled ‘entrapment’ wrong.” 

His gaze turned past Alex onto Zack, and Alex rushed forward as his face hardened, his grace coiling like a snake ready to strike. She placed her hand on his chest, fingers curling reflexively to pull his attention down onto her. “I see you found a new shirt.” 

“Stole it.” Lucifer’s voice rumbled through his chest, nearly a growl, and his wings rose higher. Now that she was closer, Alex could see the dampness that clung to his skin, seeping into his clothes. His hair hung in long, wet strands, and Alex’s hand released its grasp to reach up and pluck pine needles out from behind his ear. Lucifer’s gaze followed hers, and in the dim light, she could see the holes of decay in his skin. “Rowena’s spell seems to have affected my motor skills,” he muttered, plucking the pine from her hands. “And it’s all I can do to keep this vessel from falling apart.” 

He swiped his hands through his hair, brushing it back behind his ears, and the flora fell, discarded, to the floor. “Well, it’s not looking horrible," Alex said, taking a step back to look him up and down. "How long do you think it’ll last?”

“As long as I can make it.” Lucifer’s eyes turned past her, and Alex returned her hand to his chest as she felt him tense. “I’m gone for four hours and you’ve already made a new friend, I see.” 

"Apparently. That’s, uh that's Zack.” Alex glanced back towards the man with a small, quizzical frown. “He’s the one who put up the trap. Not me.” She stepped aside, one hand still on Lucifer’s chest lest the archangel’s anger urge him to lash out. 

Her hand was brushed aside with a huff. “Obviously. I didn’t expect you to know those runes. The real question is, how does _he_ know?” 

He stepped forward, pulling up short when Alex once again jumped forward to put herself between the two. The corner of his lips curled in a faint smile, but annoyance prickled along the edges of his grace. “He doesn’t know how he knows,” she insisted, and she curled her wings forward to wrap around Lucifer’s sides. “Just don’t hurt him.” 

The irritation vanished, swallowed up by a wall of apathetic serenity. “Hurt him?” Lucifer repeated; the corners of his eyes crinkled as he spoke, as if hurt by her accusation. “Is that what you think of me? That I just go around killing random kids?” He ushered Alex aside, and Alex circled around him to stand at his left. 

Zack still stood beside the table, the sketch of the wendigo still gripped tightly in his hands. His face, however, had remained devoid of expression even in spite of Lucifer’s anger. “You must be Alex’s friend.” He set the paper down on the table, taking a moment to smooth down the edges before he stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Zack.”

“Lucifer.” Lucifer looked down at the gesture with a disdainful sneer. “Yes, the one, the only.” He looked Zack up and down, adding, “You’re a little young to be using sanskrit, don’t you think?” Even for a witch, that’s pretty heavy spellwork.” 

A hint of accusation hung in his words, but Zack merely blinked. “Maybe. I don’t know what it means. I just … picked up the chalk and the next thing I know, I had drawn that.” His outstretched hand fell back to his side. “All I know is that it’s supposed to work on, uh, on angels,” he finished, his gaze turning to the walls where his handiwork had been destroyed by Lucifer’s grace. He muttered out something that sounded like an apology before he stepped away, digging around in his pocket for a piece of chalk. 

Alex watched him crouch down beside the charred section of wall, only turning her head away once he had set to work. “He thinks Heaven is after him, apparently,” she murmured, wingtips flicking as Lucifer grunted. “I don’t know if it's amnesia or delusion or a combination of both —” She cut herself off with a quick shake of her head. “Either way,” she added, lifting her voice above a whisper, “I’m lucky I stumbled onto this cabin. Who knows where I would have ended up if I hadn’t found it.” 

Lucifer’s eyes had slid past her as she spoke, and it took the clearing of her throat to prompt him to speak. “Probably for the best,” he agreed. “We won’t be going anywhere fast, not in this vessel.” His wings rose up before they fell back to his side. “It’s not strong enough to handle flight — let along with you in tow,” he said with a frown. “Maybe your friend Leonard Shelby can drive us into town.” 

“That’s not my name.” Zack straightened up, head cocked ever so slightly as he regarded the two angels. “At least,” he added after a moment, “I don’t think it is.” He returned to the table and set the chalk down, eyes turning onto the picture. “The nearest town is twenty miles east of here. I can drive you there tomorrow.” He picked up the sketch and started towards the stairs, leaving Alex and Lucifer standing alone. 

“Seems like a nice guy.” Lucifer strolled forward, and Alex rolled her eyes. “Definitely doesn’t seem off at all.” He pawed through the kitchen, peering into the drawers and cabinet before he gave up with a huff. “How’d you find him again?” 

“Random chance.” Alex glanced off towards the stairs. “And give the kid a break, okay? I get the feeling he hasn’t had much human interaction in the past year. He doesn’t remember much of anything before then,” she expounded when Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Who knows what happened to him.” 

For several seconds, Lucifer was silent, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested, nodding towards the front door. He didn’t wait for a response before he crossed the room, and Alex had little choice but to follow. The trap hadn’t been reactivated, and she easily passed through it and out the door. 

Lucifer had retreated off to the tree line, and Alex glanced back towards the darkened cabin. “What’s going on?” she asked. “I know he’s a little off, but …” 

“He’s not human.” Lucifer crossed his arms, back straightened as he drew himself to his full height. “How do you always manage to find people like this? You’re like a magnet for freaks.” 

Alex’s wings twitched, but she pushed aside the insult to instead ask, “Not human?” Her curled her wings forward with a small frown. “How do you know? He’s not — he’s not an angel or a demon, or anything else that I recognize.” 

“He’s a nephilim — I think.” Lucifer’s dark eyes darted past her, only returning when Alex mouthed the words ‘I think?’ with a tilted head. “I haven’t met many,” he said, and his crimson wings swept across the spongy dirt. “Most were created and destroyed during my time in the Cage. And this one … ” — he nodded back towards the cabin — “he’s young.” 

Alex shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “Well, I guess that explains why Heaven’s after him. I’m surprised they let one be born in the first place. Cas says the angels see nephilim as an, uh, an abomination.” 

“They are. But, mistakes happen.” Lucifer stepped into the trees, and Alex followed close at his heels. “Heaven’s been rather … unheavenly since Michael took the swan dive.” Alex scoffed, and Lucifer’s feathers flicked against her side, the long primaries scraping the outer arch of her wings. “Don’t roll your eyes,” he warned. “What about that friend of yours that I pulled out of Heaven’s prison? Don’t tell me he wouldn’t be the type to do this.” 

“Balthazar?” Alex scrunched her face, and in her confusion, she almost stumbled over a fallen branch. “Okay, maybe he … maybe he would,” she admitted, straightening up with a shake of her wings, “but I stayed with this guy for almost a year, so trust me; if there’s one thing he’s set on avoiding, it’s paying child support.”

“I wasn’t accusing him.” Lucifer’s voice sharpened, and Alex squared her jaw at the short tone. “But when you see a mouse, there’s always a hundred more nearby. Besides,” he added after a second of pause, “your friend is a commonplace angel. Whoever fathered this nephilim was stronger. A seraphim at least.” Lucifer glanced over his shoulder, back towards where the cabin was still visible through the trees. “Maybe someone got tired of waiting for their turn.” 

Alex followed his gaze. “You know, that’s something I never got,” she said after a moment. “I understand priorities based on rank, but the whole ‘waiting’ thing? It feels like it’s just inviting problems like this.” 

“As opposed to what? Having angels come down and scoop up a couple thousand women — and an equal number of vessels? If they’re lucky, they only burn through a hundred and the humans are none the wiser. If they’re not, well … then they’re not.” Lucifer’s voice grew flat, and Alex stopped beside a dead tree, her arms crossed. “Why don’t they just swoop down and take what they want? Or why don’t they just reveal themselves to the whole world and just put Hell out of business?” He glanced to his left, then his right, before he pulled up short and turned around with a frown, his crimson wings glittering in the dying sunlight. “They’re playing by the rules of an antiquated game, okay? Tell them to try something new, and all you get is blank stares and ‘because God said so.’ As if Dad actually had some foolproof plan for all of this.” 

Alex pursed her lips, and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, mistaking her silence for disagreement. His frozen grace rose up against hers, and it was all Alex could do to keep it from sweeping over her. “Look.” She managed to get the word out through gritted teeth, and the glacier vanished. “They’re just doing the best that they can the only way they know how.” She scuffed the dirt with a toe, but she kept her chin up. “Just … we don’t need to be having this conversation right now. Our problem is back there —” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder before nodding up towards the sky, “— not up there.” She stepped aside as Lucifer pushed past her, barely avoiding his wings that flittered in frustration. Her mouth parted, ready to snap, but a second thought had her shutting her jaw with a _click_ ; whatever Lucifer’s problem with her was, whatever issue had started during their interaction with Crowley, now wasn’t the time to confront it. Not with how his grace was roiling against hers already. She shoved her frustration down into the pit of her stomach and, with a sigh, turned back towards the cabin. 

**T** he night at the cabin in the woods was long and dark, the wooden walls doing little to keep out the midnight’s cold. At some point, Alex managed to drift off to sleep in a brown armchair, her legs tucked into her chest and her wings curled around her. When she awoke, the faint, watery sunlight of the early morning was fighting its way through the dusty window panes. A coldness sat in her chest, pulsing in a slow, careless rhythm, and Alex rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she looked around the room. Lucifer was in the shadows, seated in a wooden chair. His legs were stretched out, crossed at the ankles, and a finger traced his lips as he stared at the wall. He didn’t move when Alex stirred, but his grace stilled within her. “Your friend is still upstairs. He’s been up all night.” The finger fell away. “What’s your plan?” 

“Have him take us into town, I guess.” Alex grimaced as she rose to her feet, and she took a moment to stretch out her limbs. Her wings trembled under the strain as she lifted them towards the ceiling; Lucifer’s eyes flickered over to her, looking her up and down, and Alex quickly wrapped herself in her feathers. “I’ll go talk to him and see when we can leave.” 

Lucifer’s gaze followed her as she crossed the room, two pinpricks of ice burning into her skin, and her feathers ruffled at the chill. It seemed to linger even as she stepped out of sight, not vanquished until she started up the wooden stairs. “Zack?” Alex kept her voice soft until she reached the upper landing, blinking twice to adjust her eyes to the dark attic. The single room wasn’t large, with a slanted roof that tapered off to a point against the left wall. A bed sat there, the headboard jammed up against the slats. Light came from a single window, illuminating the crowded wooden table where Zack sat, tucked among the books and loose papers. He looked up as Alex arrived, and his eyes seemed to glow in the sunlight. For a moment, the two simply stared; upon realizing that he didn’t intend to speak, Alex cleared her throat. “Lucifer said you didn’t sleep.” 

“I tend not to.” Zack’s eyes dropped back onto his work, and Alex followed his gaze, taking in the mess of notes. They were tacked to the walls, a messy, colorful array. “Especially with strangers about, no offense meant.” 

“None taken. So you’re a hunter, huh?” Alex wandered closer to the walls, reaching out to trace the bottom edge of a paper torn from a newspaper. _Bear Attack North of Abbotsford: Two Dead, One Missing._ “You’re … you’re working a case right now?” She turned back to Zack, wings flittering. “I thought you just lived here.” 

“I do. My … hobby has me traveling, when I dare, but this just happens to be close to home.” Zack’s chair creaked as he straightened. “The wilderness up here is largely uninhabited. It isn’t the first time something like this has wandered past my cabin.” 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually hunted a wendigo before. They’re definitely some tough sons of bitches.” 

Zack’s head tipped, and his lips parted slightly, but it was a second before he spoke. “I should have guessed you were a … you called them hunters. I should have guessed you were a hunter too. I can sense the hardness of your soul.” His eyes drifted towards the stairs, darkening with contemplation. “You keep interesting company.” 

Alex followed his gaze, resisting the urge to pluck at Lucifer’s grace. “He’s not so bad once you get to know him — even with strangers, he’s normally a little more charming than this.” She reached up to rub at the back of her neck. “It’s been a rough twenty four hours for him and his ego. Let’s just say he’s … working through some things.” 

“He’s lost.” Zack’s eyes grew softer, more distant, as he spoke. “Like he doesn’t know who he is anymore.” His gaze sharpened, turning onto Alex with an intensity that took her aback. “I can feel it resonating against my own lack of identity, like it’s winding a taut wire within my chest.” The intensity died. “He believes he’s lost his purpose.” 

Alex lifted her eyebrows. “Wow. You’re, uh, you’re really in tune with other people, huh? Does that work on everyone?” 

“So far. It’s earned me more than one free meal.” With a sigh, Zack rose to his feet, and the chair legs scratched against the floor. “It’s one of the few things that my … incident didn’t erase from memory. You came up here to ask about going into town. We can leave once the sun is fully up, if you wish. I just need to make a list of supplies.” Zack crossed over to the far wall, and Alex stepped aside to make room for him, frowning to hear him muttering under his breath: the short, choppy words make it sound like a checklist. 

Alex edged down the stairs, already forgotten by the nephilim, and she retreated to the bottom with a shake of her head. Lucifer was no longer in his chair, and it took Alex a moment to find him. There. Leaning up against the wall, eyes turned out one of the dusty windows. “How much did you hear?” 

_Enough_. The archangel didn’t so much as glance her way as he dragged his finger across the grimy panes, drawing small loops and swirls. His crimson wings were folded at his side, thick and full, and Alex drew her own battered wings in tighter. _You trust him?_

“I have to. He’s put a lot of trust in us.” 

_A lot,_ Lucifer conceded before his tone grew darker. _For a man claiming to run from angels, he seemed rather willing to let us stay._ He turned away from the window, his eyes glinting, and Alex lifted her chin. 

Her lips parted, ready to speak, but after a moment, she pressed them together in a frown. _Maybe. But if it’s anything, it’s innocence, not malintent._ “He’s just a kid, Luce,” she added out loud. “We should be helping him, not doubting him.” 

Lucifer scoffed. “You … you _humans_ and your need to help those who don’t need it. You’re so …” He pointed towards her, fingers waggling as he looked for the right words. “So nosy.” 

“And here I thought angels were supposed to be the ones with compassion,” Alex shot back. “What did you do, leave your empathy in hell?” 

The corner of Lucifer’s lip curled upwards, and Alex’s wings flittered. He was _amused_ with her. “Compassion isn’t one of my virtues.” He pushed himself from the wall, and Alex’s wings pressed in even closer as he stopped mere inches from her. “If the weak can’t survive on their own, your help only prolongs the inevitable.” The humor died from his eyes, and there was a moment of silence as he studied her, his expression growing darker with each passing second before he stepped away. When he spoke again, his voice was sharp. “We should get moving soon. Before Rowena gets away.” 

“Rowena won’t get far.” Alex crossed her arms as she turned onto him. “You’re still weak, and I still feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” Lucifer’s grin momentarily returned, and Alex jaw ticked at the quiet, _You would know that feeling, wouldn’t you?_ For a moment, an image flashed through her mind, a blackened, snowy road, followed by a flash of white. “Listen," she said, forcing the picture from her mind, "if we stick around for another day or two, we can help Zack with this wendigo thing. I’ve never actually seen one, let along gotten to hunt one.” Her mouth paused, on the cusp of saying more, but the creak of the floorboards by the stairs stopped her from speaking. Zack appeared a moment later, a canvas bag slung over his shoulder. “Ready?” Alex asked, and Lucifer’s feathers flittered in irritation. Zack nodded, and Lucifer unfolded his wings, pausing only long enough to mutter a disparaging word under his breath before he was gone, a faint, _I’ll meet you there_ passing through her mind. Alex flicked her grace, but she wiped the displeasure from her face as she stepped forward. “Great. Lead the way.” 

**T** he rusted black truck blended in with the assortment of pickups and SUVs that lined the wide street that cut through the center of Ginew. Alex leaned her cheek against the window, her eyes scanning the sidewalks for a pair of crimson wings. The ride into town had been quiet; whatever conversations had been started had quickly died, and eventually both had accepted the long ride ahead. “You can take the highway south towards the border.” Zack broke the silence, stirring Alex from her thoughts. “There should be a bus that comes through here.” The engine cut off as he parked between two silver trucks, and his head tilted. “Your friend’s nearby.” 

Alex slid out the door, reaching down to feel along Lucifer’s grace. He was right; the archangel couldn’t be more than a block away. She circled around to stand on the sidewalk, searching for his direction: left. Her feet carried her along the shops, ducking among the pedestrians, and it took several steps before she realized that Zack was close on her heels. She hesitated at a crosswalk. “So, what’s your plan for this wendigo?” 

“There’s a series of caves that were once carved from the local river. Wendigos like caves, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he continued on. “Those hikers — the ones who were killed — were camping up near the ravine.” They turned the corner, and Zack’s shoulder crashed into hers as Alex pulled up short. 

Lucifer was seated on a bench — more like sprawled, Alex noted bleakly. His face was paler than usual, and Alex’s grace stiffened at the sight. The laxness in his muscles disappeared, and Lucifer straightened as his eyes turned onto hers; their forced brightness only further lent to his facade. “Took you long enough,” he muttered; the words were inaudible from where Alex stood, but they resonated along his grace until they echoed in her mind. 

_You look horrible,_ she sent back as she moved forward, shoulders tensed to keep her wings from folding forward in concern. “What the hell was that? You said your vessel wasn’t strong enough to fly!” 

“That wasn’t a lie.” Lucifer’s hands planted against the bench seat, but he made no attempt to rise. “Seemed better than a ride in a cramped car.” 

“You …” Alex felt heat rise to her cheeks, a rush of anger, and she dug her teeth into her tongue to keep the obscenities in. The curl of Lucifer’s lips revealed his amusement, and Alex clenched her fists as she imagined cuffing him across the head. 

_That_ wiped the smile from Lucifer’s face, and Alex dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. Lucifer’s eyes flickered over her shoulder, resting on Zack before they turned back to Alex. “I’m fine. Which way back home?” 

“The highway will take you down through the Dakotas,” Zack said, and Alex couldn’t help but glance southwards. “I’d take you further, but the Red River is to the west.” 

“Right. Your wendigo.” Lucifer finally stood, and his knee crumpled beneath his weight. He stumbled, and if it hadn’t been for the hand that found Alex’s shoulder, he would have fallen. The surprise of the unsteadiness had him grunting, a punched-out sound that was quickly followed by him clearing his throat as he regained his composure. 

Zack’s eyes darted over to Alex, his face darkening. “My wendigo,” he repeated. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern was waved away, and the man’s expression faded back into neutrality. “I should get going. It always takes some time for me to convince the shopkeeper to let me buy shotgun shells without a license.” 

He turned to go, leaving Lucifer to shake his head with a muttered, “nephilims,” under his breath. He shifted back to lean against the bench, but Alex barely noticed. _Shotgun shells?_ “Zack? Wait!” She jumped after the man. “Have you ever actually killed one before?” 

The outburst received a few looks from those around her, but it was enough to give Zack pause. “No,” he admitted as he stopped at the street corner, his head tipped back to look at Alex. “Why do you ask?” 

“Because a shotgun won’t do shit.” Alex caught up to him and fell in at his side. “I’m pretty sure fire is one of the only ways to kill one.” Her grace twitched against her angel blade, but she stilled it with a shake of her head. “You can’t go after a wendigo all by yourself, not on your first time.” 

“I’ll be fine. I have an aptitude for this, apparently.” Zack’s eyes flashed past her, a look that lasted barely a moment, but it was enough to leave Alex frowning. She lifted her wings, stretching one backwards until she found what she knew was there. Her feathers brushed a chest, cold and solid, and she drew them back as Lucifer’s grace rose within her. 

His hand found her shoulder and, through his stance was casual, Alex could feel the weight with which he leaned against her. “That doesn’t make me feel better about it,” she said; her voice cracked under Lucifer’s weight. “So I guess that means I’m tagging along.” Lucifer’s nails dug into her shoulder, and Alex forced a toothy grin as she brushed him away. “Just point me to where you need me to go.” 

_This is a horrible idea_. Lucifer fell into step at Alex’s side, unsteady yet unsupported, as Zack wordlessly waved them after him. _We have bigger priorities than this._

Alex snorted, rolling her eyes as they crossed the street. _You’re too weak to do anything at the moment,_ she retorted. _You should just lay low and tag along, and fingers crossed we'll be on our way before nightfall. Please_ , she added after a moment’s pause. _Just trust me on this._ The flick of Lucifer’s wings was ambivalent, and Alex suppressed a single sigh. “Hey, Zack,” she said aloud. “We’re going to head in there” — she pointed off towards the bar across the street — “and see what we can learn about these missing hikers while you finish up with your shopping, okay?” 

Zack hesitated, and he took several seconds to follow her gesture, but eventually he gave a nod. “Alright. I’ll come find you when I’m done.” 

He disappeared down the street without another word, and Lucifer’s hand returned to her shoulder as he leaned against her. “Well, good work on ditching Wingless. Now what?”

“I told you what.” Alex shrugged his hand away, catching it before it fell to his side as she tugged him across the street. “Come on. I thought you’d be into this kind of thing. Asking around, solving mysteries. Detective Lucifer on the case. Maybe this is the career change that you always wanted.” 

Lucifer’s response was lost beneath the clatter of the bar, almost half full despite the time of day. The wide front windows let the sun in, illuminating the bright, cheery interior. The front tables were full, a mix of flannel and canvas, the air beer and sun-worn leather. Alex curled one wing around Lucifer, ushering him towards the wooden bar. “Hey.” She waved the bartender over with a small smile. “Just a mule, please.” She dug around her for her wallet, counting out the loose bills before she tossed it onto the bar. “You been in this town long?” 

“Almost twenty years.” The bartender shot her a lazy grin as he mixed her drink, a grin that started to fade as Lucifer came to stand at her side. “I haven’t seen the two of you before — small town. You just passing through?” His gaze lingered on Lucifer, and he added, "Do I know you from somewhere?" 

He slid the drink down towards her, and Alex nodded. “We're heading west.” She took a sip and grunted appreciatively before adding, “We just heard the news about those hikers. Horrible.” She shook her head, eyes downcast in what hopefully appeared to be momentary sympathy. “You guys normally get bears?” 

“This _is_ Canada.” The bartender glanced her way, blue eyes sparkling in a grin that was quick to fade. “We haven’t had any issue with bears as long as I can remember. Just black bears, mostly, but they don’t cause much trouble outside of raiding campsites when people forget to hide their trash.” 

“What about the hikers?” Lucifer suddenly asked, and Alex lifted her eyebrows as the archangel twisted to lean up against the bar, elbow planted on the polished wooden slab. “Were they just passing?” 

The man shook his head. "Local, I'm afraid. They were supposed to be backpacking up the river — we didn’t even know they were still nearby until Adrian found the bodies. First them, and now Jim and Lucy are missing —”

“Another couple’s gone missing?” 

Despite the urgency in Alex’s interruption, the bartender chuckled. “Not exactly a couple, I’m afraid. Lucy’s a blue tick hound. Closest thing old Jimmy ever got to a wife, I suppose. Sheriff found his truck up west by the river, up by Coral’s Outlook. It’s a lovely little spot and usually, I’d recommend it to tourists, but now …” 

“Must be a hungry bear.” 

The bartender studied Lucifer with a faint frown. “You know, I just can’t shake the feeling that I know you from somewhere. You’ve never been in anything, have you?” 

“Just one of those faces.” The words were followed by a wink, and then Lucifer was on his feet. “I’ll see if anyone else knows anything.” He tapped Alex on her shoulder before he walked away, leaving Alex to shake her head and reach for her drink. 

The bartender watched him go with a small scoff. “You guys detectives or something?” 

“Journalists. Bear attacks are something of an interest for the both of us.” Alex reached over the bar to extend her hand. “I’m Alex, by the way.” 

“Bram, Well, Abraham, but nobody in this town calls me that anymore.” Bram shook her hand with a small laugh, and he reached down to pour himself a drink. “Well, if you want to learn more, I’d suggest you head down to the police station. Sheriff Gates is leading the investigation himself, I believe. Local folk here aren’t going to know much past what’s been in the papers and whatever rumors have been floating around.” 

“Every rumor has its root in a grain of truth.” Alex took another long sip of her mule. “So, tell me. What rumors have you heard?” 

“In a town like this? Everything from government conspiracy to monsters in the woods.” Bram mimicked her, tipping back his glass of whiskey. “Personally,” he added, leaning forward and dropping his voice, “if there was something living out there in those woods, I wouldn’t be surprised. They say the dark roads can play tricks on one’s mind, but …” 

He trailed off with a shake of his head, and Alex slid off of her stool. “You know, I think you're right.” She picked up her drink, glancing over her shoulder to where Lucifer was leaning against one of the high top tables, crimson wings draped across his back as he spoke with one of the bar’s patrons. “Thanks for the drink.” She crossed the bar, stepping into Lucifer’s open wing. _What have you learned, Sherlock?_

“ — lived there with his uncle for the past five or so years before they disappeared,” one of the men was saying. “About a year ago he showed back up in town all by himself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s the same thing as before. He only comes down for supplies.” 

_Zack?_ Alex’s head snapped over to Lucifer, her frown hidden behind the lip of her drink. _We’re supposed to be learning about the murders, not him._

“And have you talked with him?” Lucifer silenced her with a flick of his wings, the feathers brushing against her calf. “What’s he like? I imagine he’s done some strange things. Maybe some things that people can’t explain.” 

The two men exchanged small frowns. “You could say that,” the second one said. “I mean, Mrs. Kimbel’s dog was pretty weird. Nearly gave Clay a heart attack when it crawled out of its grave two days later, healthy as a horse.” 

“Or three winters ago when Dewdney’s Peak caught fire,” the other added. “Must have been the middle of January and the whole top went up in flames. Burned bright for almost two days before it just disappeared. _That_ was strange.” He shook his head, fingers playing with the label on his beer as he forced a laugh. “But the kid seems nice enough. Quiet, but polite.” He exchanged a look with his companion, his face darkening as he thought. “Some people around here don’t think too highly of him. Some used to say that he killed his uncle and buried him up at the cabin, but” — he shook his head — “he’s not capable of that. Not Zack.” 

Alex set her drink down on the table beside Lucifer. “You know him then.” She felt Lucifer’s wings withdraw, making room for her, and she shifted closer. 

“Knew his uncle,” the man corrected. “We were fishing buddies. I didn’t know he even had a nephew until Zack showed up five years ago, but …” He shrugged. “Like I said, he’s a good kid.” 

“I’m sure he is.” Alex turned away, letting her eyes drift across the rest of the bar. Above her head, the speakers had begun a new song; a familiar song, thanks to Sam. Alex blinked, freezing her grace to stop it from displaying her alarm. _'Born Fallen' by Ladyheart. Vince’s band._ “Nice talking to you,” she told the men before she stalked away, wings flicking to motion Lucifer after her. She felt the archangel stay behind, loitering just long enough to prove his stubbornness before he followed. The guitars dropped to a hum, and a voice rose to greet them, soft but painfully unique. A murmur had risen from the people behind them, glances cast in their direction, and Alex all but pulled Lucifer out the door and into the safety of the street. 

**A** n hour later, Alex found herself skirting down a narrow rocky path, eyes darting between the loose stones underfoot and the blackened hole in the cliff that marked the entrance to the caves Zack had spoken of. The bluffs themselves weren’t far from the dirt road that wound through the southern half of the forest preserve, but the descent down towards the river was treacherous. The riverbank itself was thin and muddy, and Alex clung close to the stone wall, wings pinned tightly against her back as Lucifer’s insults rattled around inside of her head. She didn’t look back, but she could feel him behind her, picking his way through the grime and muttering under his breath. Zack was in the lead, pushing forward through the mud as if simply didn’t exist. Every minute or so he would pause, head tipping up before he pushed on forward. _What is he doing?_ she heard Lucifer mutter. _Ask him what he’s doing._

His grace pushed against hers, urging her forward, and Alex slapped it away. “Uh, Zack … what are you doing —” 

“The wendigo went this way.” Zack paused at a gaping hole in the cliff face, and Alex rolled her eyes; this wasn’t the first time she had spoken to him on their trip down, and each time, he had given no indication that he had ever heard her. “We enter here.” 

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Alex’s grace dropped her angel blade into her hand, and she peered past Zack into the darkness. A glance back at Lucifer showed that the archangel’s eyes were out over the brown water, his wings twitching impatiently, and she reached out to smack him in the shoulder. “At least act like you’re going to help,” she hissed, voice low as Zack stepped into the cave. “Didn’t you bring anything?” 

Lucifer looked down at her drawn weapon, and his lips curled. “I don’t _have_ anything.” His hands went out in a flourish. “Not on this vessel.” His wings arched up, and he brushed past Alex as he entered the cave, leaving Alex to scowl after him. 

The cave was dark, the walls damp and the floor slick, and Alex carefully picked her way across the mud until the floor began to gently slope upwards. She let her wings stretch out, brushing against the walls to get a feel for the space around her. Only once the light from the sun had faded did she bring her grace upwards to take a look at the cave. _Network of caves_ , she corrected, her heart dropping. It was a network of caves. They were standing in an open space, the ceiling maybe five feet above her head, and tunnels branched off in every direction, some tall and sloping up, others little more than cracks in the rocks that would barely be passable even if she were down on her knees. “So … which way?” 

Zack had his head tipped back again, eyes closed. “Left.” He pointed towards a narrow passageway to their left. “Can you smell that? They were here recently.” 

Alex exchanged a look with Lucifer before she reluctantly sniffed at the air. The cave smelled like must and mud and rotting fish, and she drew in one last, deep breath before she shook her head. “I don’t smell anything.” She shot one more look over Lucifer, adding, _Can nephilim … smell monsters? Is that normal?_

“Beats me.” Lucifer’s eyes drifted down towards the mud in which they stood, and his grace roiled. “Well?” he snapped. “What are you waiting for, _Memento_? Take the lead.” His wings momentarily surrounded her, a show of black and crimson, and Alex’s breath hitched at the rush of ice as his grace curled around her, a brief, overwhelming touch that was gone as soon as it had come. 

When his wings unravelled, Zack was standing at the edge of one of the cracks, head tipped as he peered into the darkness. He glanced back at the two angels before he stepped inside, and in that brief second, his eyes seemed to ignite. And then he was gone, slipping in between the rocks. Alex glanced over at Lucifer to find that his eyes were on her, impatience darkening his features. She paused, waiting for him to speak, but when nothing came, she set off after Zack.

There was barely enough room for her to shuffle sideways, and Alex grunted out her surprise as she planted her hands against the damp stone to help pull her along. The passageway opened up ten feet later, widening enough for her to walk without fear of bumping her shoulders. Despite the silence, she didn’t have to glance back to make sure Lucifer was following; the displeasure that chilled the air around her was enough. Zack was nowhere in sight, but Alex hung back long enough to make sure Lucifer had caught up before she continued on.

The cave twisted and turned; Alex wasn’t sure how long they walked, but it had to be at least a hundred feet before the walls opened up into a cavern. The first thing that she noticed was the smell of death, metallic and rotten, and she swept her eyes across the room, grace drawn up until they glowed. A corpse lay at Zack’s feet — at least, what little was left of a corpse. Beneath the shreds of dark cloth was bones, marred with clumps of decaying flesh. Her feet stopped her in the entranceway, only moving her forward one more step when Lucifer’s wings nudged at her back. 

“It must be nearby.” Zack’s voice, though soft, echoed off of the dripping walls, and he turned to look back at the two angels. 

Alex heard Lucifer scoff, and she added, “At this point, I’m sure it knows we’re here —”

A snarl cut through the air, seemingly coming from every direction all at once, and a black shape exploded from a tunnel behind Zack. A blur of motion sent him flying across the room, the back of his skull cracking against the sharpened stone wall. He slumped to the ground, and Alex threw herself forward. 

Her blade flashed through the air, twisting as she ducked beneath a swipe of claws as she leapt for the thin, bony torso. The wendigo shifted, and Alex shrieked as hot knives tore through her shoulder. She twisted, recoiling to barely avoid the claws piercing her neck. The action sent her to the ground, rolling across the rocky floor. The angel blade left her hand, skittering out of her grasp, and it took the angel a moment to catch her breath. She could feel blood trickling from her wounds, her grace rising to stem the flow, and she pushed herself to her feet as the wendigo’s jaws parted in a snarl, blackened eyes glowing in the dark. 

“Luce!” Alex’s shout had the wendigo’s head swinging around towards her. Lucifer’s grace swelled, and then the wendigo was simply … gone. Alex flinched, throwing her hands up over her head as bits of flesh shot everywhere, leaving a mist of blood hanging in the damp air. The archangel stood across from her, wings folded casually against his back; his clothes, already black, didn’t show the blood, but it stained his pale face. 

He dragged his fingers across his cheek, staring down at blood with a curious frown, and Alex heaved herself to her knees. “Please don’t lick that.” The archangel’s tongue darted out, swiping across his lower lip as he grinned, but his hand did fall back to his side as he crossed the cave. Alex struggled up, almost knocked off balance as Lucifer’s hands suddenly pulled her upright, seating her on her feet. “I’m fine.” She brushed off his support even as she tugged her tattered clothes tighter around her; a quick glance down showed that the claws had somehow missed her jacket, tearing instead just through the thin fabric of her shirt. She turned her eyes up from the wound, searching the darkness for Zack. “Shit.” 

She picked her way across the cave floor, slick with water and blood, until she reached the nephilim’s unmoving form. Blood matted his hair, but even as she crouched down at his side, she could see that his chest was rising and falling. A hand on his shoulder had him stirring, and after a moment he lifted his head, blinking to adjust his eyes to the surrounding darkness. The blood had already stopped flowing, and she placed her hands on either side of his temple to find solid bone: an impact like that should have shattered his skull. She ran her fingers across his scalp, pausing at the sight of a raised scar on his temple, rounded and no thicker than a pencil. Her fingers shifted, brushing across a similar bump on the other side, and Zack grunted in surprise as Alex brushed back the shaggy hair that hid his forehead. A third.

She rocked back onto her heels before she pushed herself to her feet. She had seen wound patterns like that before, like a crown of thorns, put in an angel's head by needles. Her legs carried her a step backwards, back into Lucifer's chest, as Zack struggled to his feet. "He, uh, he's fine." The words stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she licked at her lips as she stepped away from the archangel.

The hitch to her voice went seemingly unnoticed by the nephilim. Zack’s eyes turned around the cave, taking in the blood and bits of blackened flesh that littered the ground. “Did you get both of them?” 

_Both of them?_ Alex spun around, grace rising to her eyes as a second wendigo stepped into the cave. It towered over them, its head almost brushing the uneven ceiling, and its jaw unhinged in a roar. The skin was grey, stretched thin over bones and sinews, and its sunken eyes were black with malice. Alex’s eyes slipped past it, to where her angel blade still lay, abandoned, on the ground. “Two?” She circled around to stand at Lucifer’s side. “They’re supposed to be solitary!”

Lucifer’s wing extended, motioning her back a step until she was behind him, but before he could turn back to the beast, Zack stepped forward, brushing the dust and mud off of his jacket. “I’ll take care of this one.” The air crackled around him, and this time, his eyes definitely ignited with an unnatural light. “You said fire was effective, correct? _Ignis!_ ” 

The cave exploded into yellow light as fire spilled from Zack’s palm, and the wendigo barely had time to shriek before it crumpled to the ground in a pile of ash. “Shit.” Alex’s grace stilled, surprised, and she couldn’t help but stare at the remains of what had, moments before, been two beasts. “You know, you, uh, really should have led with ‘I can shoot fire from my hand.’ ”

Zack didn’t respond, his fingers feeling at the back of his skull. “That hurt.” When he pulled his fingers away, they were red, flaky with drying blood. His eyes flicked up onto Alex; they had lost their glow, but the intensity remained. “I didn’t know how to do that until right now.” 

“Huh. Maybe you knocked a tube back into place.” Alex reached out to tug on Lucifer’s sleeve, nodding off towards the tunnel from which they had come. “We should get going before the sun starts to set. I want to be back in the states before nightfall.” She picked her way across the cave, mindful of the gore that littered her path. “Luckily clean-up isn’t something we need to worry about.” 

“Wait. What about him?” Zack pointed towards the human corpse, and Alex paused on the edge of the wall. “We should take him back so his family can bury him.”

Lucifer followed Alex, brushing his wings against hers as he started towards the tunnel, and Alex frowned. “The cops can retrieve him.” She flicked her grace out after Lucifer, intent on not losing him in the darkness. “Wait a week, maybe two. Enough for the wildlife to pick over what we’re leaving.” A look back at Zack’s pensive frown had her adding, “Or call them as soon as we get back to town. It’s your turf, which makes it your call.” She rubbed at her shoulder, grimacing at the still-raw skin where the wendigo's claws had torn through. Lucifer had already disappeared from her sight, and she jerked a thumb back over her shoulder. "I should, uh — I should catch up with him." With that, she flicked her wings and set off into the dark. 

**I** f Alex had thought the drive to the caves had been quiet, the drive back into town was dead silent. It wasn’t the mood that had changed; the usual post-hunt gloom was nowhere to be found, but the tension in the single bench seat of the rusted truck was as tangible as ever. Alex shifted uncomfortably, sandwiched between two solid, stoic figures. Zack’s mind was elsewhere, and every once and awhile, the air around him would crackle before falling still. On her other side, Lucifer was as rigid as a rock, eyes out the window, and Alex curled her shoulders in as she studied her hands. Blood still speckled the beds of her nails, and she scraped the drops away with a shake of her head. The truck’s mirrors had served to scrub away the blood from her face, but her jacket was still stained. Her shirt had suffered a worse fate, now torn beyond repair. 

As the town rolled into view, Alex tugged her jacket tighter to hide the ripped fabric. Her thigh pressed further against Lucifer’s, and after a moment, his fingers moved, shifting from his lap to brush against her jeans. _Was that what you wanted?_

Alex glanced up at the archangel from the corner of her eye, taking a moment to search for a note of scorn. _It’s not as much fun when you just get to obliterate them_ , she finally replied, shoulders slumping forward. _I didn’t even get to kill one. Next time,_ she added, and once again her eyes flickered to the side. 

_There won’t be a next time_. There was something hiding in his tone, a troubled note, and Alex shifted her gaze to Zack; he drove on, unaware of the passing conversation. _Not while I’m alive._

There it was again. Before Alex could parcel it out, the truck jolted to a stop, and the engine died. “We’re here.” Zack stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Lucifer followed, crimson wings folding out into the air as he exited the cramped cab. Alex nudged him aside so she could jump out as well. The sun was past its apex, already edging towards the western sky, but the air was still warm and damp. “You’ll find the bus station the next block down. It can take you to where you need to go.” 

The air crackled as Zack spoke, and Alex turned, reaching out to catch him before he left. “Hey, thanks for letting us tag along.” She was met with a blank stare, and after a moment, she stepped forward. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own? If you need anything we could —”

A flick of Lucifer’s wing had her falling silent, and Zack shook his head. “You two should go. You’re a beacon for any passing angels, and I don’t need them finding me. Not yet.” His eyes turned up and down the street, and Zack took a moment to sigh. “I need to take some time away from this town, I think. To discover what I am — _who_ I am,” he corrected. “The answers are out there.” He reached into his pocket and dug out the keys to his truck. “We’re all here for a reason. We just need to find out what that reason is.” 

The words were spoken over Alex’s shoulder, his eyes on Lucifer, and then he was gone, sauntering back around to his side of the rusted truck. Alex watched until he was out of sight; only then did she turn back to look at Lucifer. The archangel’s face was unreadable, and it took Alex a moment of courage to shake him from his thoughts. “Hey, Luce … can we talk?” 

Cold eyes dropped down onto her, and Alex shifted under the silent scrutiny. She felt his grace against hers, twitching ever so slightly as he thought. “About?” he finally asked. Alex stepped away, crooking a wing as she started down the street, and he followed with a frown. “If this is about that kid —”

“It’s not.” They stopped in front of a coffee shop, and Alex took a seat at one of the metal outdoor tables. “It’s … you’ve been acting weird. To — to me.” 

“To you.” Lucifer’s teeth flashed, and he slung an arm over the back of his chair as he settled down across from her. The grin looked forced, and despite the attempt at humor, his eyes had darkened. “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean,” Alex snapped. “You talk down to me, you look at me like — like —”

“Like?” Lucifer shifted, his tongue teasing at his upper teeth as he studied her. Alex dropped her attention to her lap as she pushed her grace up against his, wings curling forward to brush against his legs, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucifer’s gaze flicker with — fear? Alex pulled away, her wings drawing in close. What could possibly frighten him? The anxiety vanished, and ice skated across her grace, a soothing stroke that sent a rush of warmth up Alex’s spine. “Like how I realized that Crowley can and will use you to get to me? Like how for the first time I have an exploitable weakness that I can’t seem to shake off?” His grace crashed into hers, and his grin twisted into a scowl. “And now that I’m outside of Castiel, it’s impossible to worm my way back into that head of yours. Not with his grace bound so tightly to yours. I’m barely holding on.” 

Alex curled her lip as Lucifer’s grace pulled away, but she forced the expression back into neutrality. “You don’t have to worry about me,” she muttered. “Crowley wouldn’t hurt me.” 

Lucifer scoffed. “I’m sure whatever good times the two of you have shared isn’t going to stop him from carving a piece out to you. Getting to me — it’s personal now.” 

Alex slumped in her chair, nudging at the remnants of a plastic fork that sat under their table. “So … what’s your plan then? We can't hide forever.” She felt Lucifer’s grace rise up within her, brushing across the knot that held Castiel at bay. His face darkened, and Alex watched as his crimson wings irritably flicked. “What’s your long term plan anyways? We’re not going with the apocalypse again, right?” 

“Nothing wrong with the classics.” A quick flash of petulance darted across his face. “Obviously first I’ll track down Rowena, but after I rip her face off of her skull … I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see just what this vessel can do.” 

“You could take some time to find another one,” Alex muttered; Lucifer frowned, and she quickly cleared her throat. “All I’m saying is —”

“Alex?” A voice, sharp with surprise, had Alex freezing. Jody Mills stood in the darkened doorway of the coffee shop, a lidded white cup in one hand and a wrapped pastry in the other. The tan uniform of the Sioux Falls Police Department was gone, replaced with dark jeans and a canvas jacket. Her short brown hair was hidden beneath a dark baseball cap, but the shadows couldn’t hide the bright eyes set into a stern, narrow face. “What are you doing here?” 

Alex felt heat flush through her cheeks, and she forced it down as she rose to her feet. “I, uh, I could ask you the same thing,” she got out, shifting to try and hide Lucifer from the woman’s line of sight. “We’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t we?” 

The sheriff chuckled. “I’m not in town for business. Who’s your friend?” Her eyes slid past Alex to rest on Lucifer, and the young angel reluctantly stepped aside. 

Lucifer’s wings flicked as he rose to his feet, but his face held nothing but a cocky smile. “Vince Vincente.” He extended a hand even as Alex winced, barely stifling a groan. His grace rose within her, a silent question, and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets. _You can’t just go around saying that,_ she snapped. _Someone’s going to recognize —_

“Vince Vincente?” Jody’s eyes widened, and Alex ground her teeth as her gaze swung between the two of them. “No. No way.” A grin broke out across her face, and she took two steps forward to narrow the gap. “You know, I was a huge fan when I was younger. Huge. Uh, Jody Mills.” She extended a hand before her eyes turned down onto Alex. “How do you know Vince Vincente?” 

“I just … bumped into him a little while ago while getting coffee.” Alex glanced up at Lucifer, offering up half a shrug as she did so. “We just started talking, I guess. Sam’s a fan,” she supplied after a second. “That’s how I knew who he was.” 

“Ah.” The answer seemed to satisfy Jody's curiosity, and for a moment, her face seemed to darken. She regarded Alex for a second, scouring her face for any sign of what could be wrong, but the angel kept her face blank. "Hey," the sheriff finally said, the grin returning to her face as she turned back to Lucifer, "is there any chance I can get a picture with you?" 

Surprise flitted across Lucifer's face, and Alex felt his eyes on the back of her head. "Sure thing." He stepped aside to let Jody put her coffee down on the table, and Alex took the opportunity to shrug. _Is this normal?_ she heard him ask. 

_Welcome to the life of a celebrity_. Alex tore her eyes away as Jody held out her phone, and the young angel retreated a few steps to frame the photo. Lucifer's surprise had faded to pleased amusement; it thrummed through his grace, a constant, rusty purr. _The last thing you need is an ego boost that comes with it,_ she thought, adding, "Smile," aloud. 

Lucifer's cocky grin was all too real, and Alex rolled her eyes as she returned the phone to Jody Mills. “Vince — can I call you Vince?” Jody’s stumble only deepened Lucifer’s smile, and the sheriff must have taken that for acquiescence, for she continued on. “I just have to say, I’m a huge fan. Chaos Theory was my favorite album, but Courage of Fools had some of the best songs.” 

“Personally, I’m a fan of Deconstruction,” Alex added; that was the name of one of Vincente’s albums, right? Judging by the look on Jody’s face, it was, but not one of the fan favorites. She glanced over at Lucifer, eyebrows raised. _We should get going_ , she reminded. 

_Ah_. Lucifer cleared his throat, and he clapped his hands together. “Well … Jody, you said?” He waited for Mills to nod before he did the same. “It was nice to meet you, Jody, but we best be on our way.” 

He turned to go, but Jody’s word stopped him. “We?” The sheriff looked between Alex and Lucifer, a small frown growing across her face. “The two of you …” 

“ _No_.” Alex cleared her throat, and her feet carried her one step away from the devil. “No, we’re not … ” She paused, tongue poised against her top teeth as she racked her brain for a lie. “He’s head back to LA, and I had just mentioned that I was on my way stateside, but we’re not traveling together.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “You never said why you were in town.” _You should go_ , she added to Lucifer. _I’ll catch up when I can._

She flicked a wing when Lucifer hesitated, ignoring the chastising, _bossy,_ that rang through her head. He left, sauntering down the road with little more than an angered flick and a, _Don’t go far_. Jody had paused to watch him go, but once he had disappeared from sight, her attention returned to Alex. “We’re in town for a funeral,” she explained. “There was this hunter — Asa Fox. He and I were … friends, in a way.” A faint blush passed through her cheeks, gone so quickly Alex wasn’t sure if she imagined it. 

“Asa Fox.” The name tasted familiar on her tongue, and the young angel frowned. “I swear I’ve heard that name before.” She dug around in her mind — he must have been someone that Bobby had mentioned. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Jody merely grunted, and she reached past Alex to retrieve her drink. “It’s okay. I … he was a hunter. We both know how that ends.” She took a step towards the sidewalk, pausing to motion Alex after her. “You’re welcome to come pay your respects, if you want. The wake’s tonight, and they’re burning the body tomorrow. Unless you had a ride back to the states,” she added after a moment, nodding towards the tall, thin frame of Lucifer’s vessel. 

Alex glanced over her shoulder to hide a frown. He had only made it halfway down the street before the small crowd had converged, a clamor of questions and phones, and she tore her gaze away with a small shake of her head. She couldn’t leave with him, not without arousing Jody’s suspicion. “I don’t.” Alex stepped forward, praying that her reluctance hadn’t crept into her voice. _I’ll be a few minutes. Maybe I can slip away._

 _Take your time._ Lucifer’s attention still hadn’t wandered from the crowd around him, and Alex shook her head. 

“Yeah, uh, lead the way.” She fell in beside Jody Mills, letting the sheriff lead her away from Lucifer. They started towards the street corner, weaving their way through the sidewalk’s morning traffic. “So, you drove all the way from Sioux Falls, huh?” 

“Not exactly.” Jody’s vague answer left Alex with a small frown, and she narrowed her eyes as they rounded the corner, watching the sheriff from the corner of her eye. So intent was she that she didn’t immediately see the black car that lay parked against the sidewalk. Not until the doors flew open. Two figures emerged, and Alex’s wings flared out before they drew in close. 

Winchesters.


	5. Rock Never Dies

**Carpenteria, California**

**T** he high rolling skyline of Los Angeles lay below her, the array of colored lights hazy in the morning fog. A crisp breeze whistled through the trees, fresh from the mountains, rustling the stripped vanes of Alex’s broken wings. She slammed the door of her silver Honda shut, tossing the keys over her shoulder as she stepped away from the car. If she was lucky, she could reach the city proper by midday. Lucifer’s words rattled around in her brain even as the thin thread of his grace drew her onwards, growing stronger with each step. _Bellaqua Hotel._

That had to be where she should head for first, right? Alex’s eyes narrowed, and in that moment of contemplation, the gravel crackled under her feet, sending her skidding a foot down the steep path. Her wings flared out, and she reeled back to catch her balance even as her eyes darted down to the paved road. The hill hadn’t been ideal, but it had been the only place to stash a stolen Civic that hadn’t been in one of the shallow ditches. With a huff, Alex started back down towards the road, skirting a water-logged pothole. 

She could thumb her way downtown and start looking from there. 

The city was already disappearing from view, the rise of trees higher than the distant horizon, and with a sigh, Alex doubled her pace, skidding down the hill until she reached the four-lane road. The roar of cars was distant, but the road was wide enough that traffic had to pass by often enough. 

Her salvation had come in a Volkswagen EuroVan, the cloth seats packed tight with street evangelists. Their faces shown brightly — holy people, no doubt. Their leader, a dark-skinned man with a checkered shirt, had gushed over her at first, first concerned about her torn clothes and then about what exactly she had been doing alone on this road: she was lucky they had come upon her when they had. 

What followed in the next two hours of the ride was a barrage of questions. Was it her first time in the city? Yes. Was she here to see a friend? Yes again. His name? Vince. No, no last name. Was she a believer? That one had Alex stumbling, wings flittering in surprise. Yes, she had finally admitted; hard not to be when you’d seen God face to face less than two weeks ago — she had kept that last thought to herself. From there, she has hurried to ask her own questions, and soon the conversation shifted away from her and onto the long-winded history to the group’s ministry. 

By the time she was dropped off in front of the doors of The Bellaqua Hotel, the fog had dissipated and the chill in the air had disappeared, replaced with a warmth that bordered on discomfort. Lucifer’s grace had swelled within her, a ball of ice that sat against her diaphragm, and Alex took a moment to look up at the massive building that loomed before her. _Wow_. After years of living out of second-rate motels, it was hard to remember that buildings of this caliber existed. 

The lobby only enforced that thought with its high-vaulted ceilings and white checkered floors. So focused was Alex upon it, with its arched balconies and ionic-style columns, that she didn’t notice the front desk clerk until he cleared his throat. “Can I help you?” 

“Huh?” Alex turned, wings flicking as she looked the stranger up and down. “Oh, uh, I’m looking for someone. Vince Vincente,” she hurried to add. “He said this is where he was staying.” She tugged on Lucifer’s grace as she spoke, and it reacted, pushing back against her touch. “Can you look up his room number for me?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s hotel policy not to give out personal information —”

“Alex.” Lucifer’s voice came from behind her, and she turned. For the first time, the span of his crimson wings didn’t seem to fill the room they occupied, but the orange light only deepened their shimmering color. “Glad to see you’re here." He crossed the room to stand at her side, and only then did he seem to notice the concierge. “Is there a problem?” A hand snaked around Alex’s waist, drawing her near, and for a moment, the lobby disappeared beneath a blanket of crimson before the wings fell away. 

“Not at all.” The man’s face remained expressionless, only giving the arm that had wrapped itself around Alex a single glance before moving on. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

With that, he was gone, returning to his post beside the front desk, and Lucifer frowned at his turned back. “You’re here.” The statement was repeated, quieter this time. “Any problems?” 

“No.” Alex gently extracted herself from his grasp, mindful of the eyes around them. “He was just doing his job.” She let Lucifer take the lead towards the elevator, wings pinned tightly against her back until they were out of sight. “Sorry I’m late. The Winchesters —”

The icy wave of displeasure that crashed into her had her falling silent, and she watched as Lucifer’s shoulders drew back. “Delayed you. I know.” The elevator opened with a _ding_ , and he stepped inside. “Room’s this way.” 

With a frown, Alex followed; no sooner had the door closed than his hand found her wrist, and his wings carried them into the air. A second later, she found herself standing in a long hallway, the white walls broken by a line of equally white doors. “You can —” The words seemed to echo through the silence, and Alex bit her tongue before repeating herself quietly. “You can fly. When did that happen?” 

“Last night.” Her curiosity was brushed off, and Lucifer pushed himself through the nearest door. “Don’t worry about it. Come on in.” 

The hotel room was less of a room and more of … _rooms_. The short hallway led to an expansive living room with two other doors sprouting off toward her left. A balcony let in the sun, illuminating the mess that marred the pristine white furniture. “What the hell happened here?” Alex's eyes immediately locked on the lacy black bra that was slung across one of the white chairs, and her feathers bristled as she hooked a finger under the strap to hold it up. “Seems like you’ve been busy.” 

“I have.” For a brief moment, amusement flickered across Lucifer’s grace, quickly quelled. “Don’t mind the mess. The boys got a bit crazy last night.” 

Alex let the bra fall back onto the chair, arms folding across her chest as she looked the archangel up and down. “ ‘The boys’?” she repeated, scorn still lacing her tone. “What the hell have you been up to?” 

“Plenty, since you took your time getting here.” Lucifer moved past her, and Alex swallowed back her jealousy as she followed. 

“You told me to lose any tails,” she snapped. “Since last I checked, you weren’t strong enough to fly with me in tow. When did that change?” 

“Like I said, last night.” Lucifer dropped down onto the chair, brushing off the various clothing items until he could sit comfortably. One leg crossed over the other as he reclined, head propped up on a fist as he gestured for her to do the same. “Funny story, actually. A couple of kids tried summoning me.” His wing flicked, a dismissive gesture, and Alex settled herself down on the edge of the white couch. “They were nobodies, but somehow they’d managed to get their hands on one of my feathers. It had just enough juice to get this vessel back up and functioning.” 

“And you’ve been … celebrating.” Alex straightened the guitar that was haphazardly leaning against the armrest. “How’d they get one of your feathers?” 

“Didn’t ask. Little too late to find out now.” 

“Why —” Alex narrowed her eyes, and she probed at his grace as a frown spread across her features. “You killed them, don’t you?” Lucifer’s admission came in a shrug, and Alex leaned forward with a hissed, “Luce!” 

“What?” Lucifer’s eyes drifted past her, only returning when Alex snapped out her wings. “ _What_?”

“You can’t just —” Alex drew in a breath, deep and controlled; he was irritated with her. Irritated. With _her_. “You can’t just go around killing people,” she said, leaning back into the couch as she aimed for a calm composure. “This isn’t the Stone Age. You need to, you know, be a little more tactful. Civilized.” 

Lucifer leaned forward, fingertips pressed together in thought. “Yeah, you know, I’m not sure that would get my point across,” he finally said. 

“Sam and Dean and Cas and Crowley are all after you right now!” The facade shattered, and Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “They’re convinced you’re a menace, and the only way to stop them and a million other hunters — or demons or angels or whatever! — is to show them you’re not going to destroy the world!” 

For a moment, Lucifer was silent, lost in thought. “They are persistent,” he finally murmured, wings unfolding to stretch lazily across the ground. “Like mosquitos. Swattable, but they always seem to come back at the most inconvenient times.” Another second passed, and this time when Lucifer spoke, it was to her directly. “Well then, maybe you’d like to see what I’ve been working on while you were gone.” His arms swept out, and Alex let her eyes briefly flicker across the room. 

“It looks like you’ve been partying.” She kicked at an empty bottle of whiskey, discarded beneath the coffee table. “I’ll be honest: if this is your long term plan, I’m out. I already went through this scene with Dean last year, and I can’t babysit another —”

A flick of Lucifer’s wing against her leg had her falling silent, watching as the archangel rose to his feet. “You know, your friend Jody got me thinking.” He turned to look out over the balcony, pausing as if waiting for Alex to prompt him to continue: she simply settled for a quizzical frown. “About this vessel,” he finished with a cross twitch of his wings. “He’s famous — people worship him.” 

“Not exactly —”

Lucifer continued over her. “And after I talked to those kids, I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m not as popular as I once was.” He turned back to her, his eyes darkening as he thought. “So I figured, why not just piggyback off of Vince’s following? He’s not exactly using it at the moment.” He circled back around to stand behind her, and Alex leaned back as cold hands brushed across the arch of her wings. “It took a bit of persuading, but I got the band back and signed on for a reunion tour.” 

More silence followed, and it took Alex a moment to realize he wanted her to speak. “Um …” She leaned forward to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think words can even begin to express how bad of an idea this is.” 

The air chilled, and the hands pulled away. “A bad idea.” Lucifer moved to stand in front of her, and after a moment, he dropped down onto the coffee table, his toes brushing against hers. “You’re the one who didn’t want the apocalypse. So I thought that, if I couldn’t rebuild the whole world in my image, I should settle for being worshipped by the masses and work my way up from there. One continent at a time.”

“I thought you hated people.” The words were deadpanned, spoken through a flat stare, one Lucifer didn’t quite seem to see. 

“Oh, I don’t like them, but if they can give me something I want … some things are more useful alive than not.” Lucifer leaned forward, and Alex had to shift back to keep space between their bodies. The glint in his eyes held the impression that there was a greater meaning to his words: he wasn't talking about _her_ , was he? “You’re not human anymore. Why should you care about them, flawed as they are?” His hand found her chin, nails digging into her pale skin. “You’re so much more than that now. You’re something … so much closer to perfection.” 

Alex reached up to pry his hand away, but the grip softened, and she opted simply to hold his wrist. “I’m more human than you might think.” She reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You shouldn’t —”

There was a knock at the door, and Alex jerked back: who knew they were here? Lucifer’s hand fell away, and his grace danced across hers, quick and calm. And then he was rising to his feet. “Come in.” He nudged Alex with a foot, wing flicking as he motioned her up as well, and Alex hung back as the door swung open. 

She didn’t recognize the three men that stepped in, but judging by the lack of surprise in the archangel beside her, their arrival had been expected. “Vince.” The taller of the three, a broad-shouldered, curly-haired blond, led the group. “Where’d you disappear off to last night? You missed a hell of a party.” 

“Just … out.” Lucifer shrugged, and he opened up his arms to invite Alex closer. “Alex, this is Tommy, Micky, and Neil.” His wing flicked towards each of the men in turn; the shaggy hair and aged faces were enough to confirm that they were the remaining members of Ladyheart.

“Another groupie?” Tommy’s frown was short-lived, but in that moment, a single emotion flashed through his eyes: distrust. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Alex merely shrugged, letting her eyes shift away for a brief second, and Tommy turned back to Lucifer. “The limo’s here. Rus is going to meet us at the studio to record some of our new songs.” 

Lucifer’s attention had already wavered, grace tying and untying loose knots around hers. “Maybe later.” He turned back into the hotel room, wings flicking in rapid succession as he took in the state of the mess. “How about I, uh, meet you there.” 

The looks the three exchanged were ones of tight-lipped frowns and darkened eyes. Tommy opened his mouth, but a second thought had him hesitating. “Make sure you do,” he finally said. “You’re the one who wanted this tour, Vince. Least you could do is show up to actually make something of it.” 

_Sorry, guys_. Alex mouthed the word to them as they left, and once the door was closed, she turned on Lucifer. “He’s got a point.” She kept her voice low until the sounds of their footsteps had faded, and she pushed past the archangel to cross over to the balcony. They were near the top floor; the people on the street below were little more than pinpricks, small moving shapes of colors. The wind whipped by, and Alex let her wings unfold, eyes closing as the breeze stirred the broken vanes. For a moment, she let the feeling wash over her; it was almost as if she could fly again — the facade shattered, broken under the weight of reality, and she folded her wings back. “Being in a band isn’t all parties and mosh pits," she added, more sharply than intended. "You have to work for it.” 

“Oh, I plan on it.” When Alex turned around, Lucifer was back to lounging on the couch, wings splayed out over the back as he fingered at the guitar. “But I get the feeling you and I have different ideas on the work that needs to get done.” He picked at the strings, and a discordant note rang out through the air, a sound as unnerving as the smile that twisted his lips. 

Alex stepped back inside, and she dropped down into the chair with a frown. “You want to be a rockstar. If you’re not thinking about going to rehearsal … I’m not sure I want to hear your idea of work.” She held out her hand, and after a second Lucifer passed her the guitar. Alex ran her finger along the frets, feeling the ridges of the metal strings as she slowly picked out the first few bars of Metallica’s _Halo on Fire._ “You’ve got to have the basics locked up in that head somewhere.” 

The guitar was snatched away, and the archangel’s fingers danced across the fret as he played the opening tab to _Bloody Messiah_. A moment later, he set the guitar away with a bored wave of his hand. “I was thinking of focusing on something a little more important,” he said, leaning back into the cushions. “Like how am I supposed to dress? What’s going to grab people’s attention and make them think something like, oh, I don’t know, ’I should definitely give that guy my heart and soul’?”

“You want people to worship you, do your damn job.” Alex tossed one of the bras his way as she pushed herself to her feet. Halfway through its arc, the air dropped ten degrees as Lucifer’s grace twisted out, a mesh of woven threads, and then the bra was simply gone. The rest of the debris was too, leaving the white room spotless. “Unless you want to try some Jedi mind-trick — that was a joke,” she jumped to add when Lucifer’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You can’t go around hypnotizing people!” 

“Don’t worry.” The thoughtfulness faded, and Lucifer beckoned her closer with a crooked finger. “What’s true devotion if it doesn’t come from the heart?” When Alex stayed away, he frowned and rose to his feet. “You took four days to get here, and yet you’re still wearing the same clothes I last saw you in.” One step took him toe-to-toe with Alex, and the angel found her heels bumping against the chair. “Look at this.” His fingers curled in her shirt, torn and muddy, and Alex’s wings curled forward to try and hide from his scrutiny. “How am I supposed to take you anywhere? I've got a reputation now, you know.”

“Take me somewhere? Where would —”

She didn’t even have the chance to finish before she was being tugged forward by the jacket. “If you’re going to play the groupie, you’ll need to look the part.” Lucifer wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest, and before Alex had the opportunity to even protest, they were gone. 

**T** he unwavering LA sun beat down upon Alex’s shoulders, its heat trapped within the confines of her new leather jacket. Lucifer’s concept of ‘purchasing’ clothes had proven dubious at best; a single touch to the shopkeeper’s cheek, and she had let the two of them simply walk out the doors. _At least he didn’t kill her._ That thought soothed some of Alex’s discomfort, and she cast a glance up at the archangel. He was walking at her side, hand in her hand; despite her initial attempt at pulling away, he had persisted, and now their fingers were locked together as he led the way down the busy street. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have just gone to get my things.” The argument was old, but Alex brought it up once again, a grumble in the back of her throat. “I look ridiculous. I don’t wear leather.” 

The words didn’t go unnoticed, and fingers squeezed her hand as Lucifer sighed. “If Crowley and Castiel have found Rowena, then they know where the cabin — where _my_ cabin — is.” Impatience crept into his tone, and the archangel took a moment to regain control. “Clothes are everywhere. What’s the point in walking into a trap for them?” 

“Because they’re _my_ clothes.” Alex kicked at a cup whose contents had been strewn across the sidewalk, and it skittered towards the drain. “Okay, so you got me a new outfit. What’s up next, Nickelback?” 

“Vince!” A woman’s shout had Alex turning, and her wings rose up to cover her face at the sight of a ENG camera. Great. "Vince Vincente.” The woman who had spoken stood before it, a handheld reporter’s mic in her hands. “Glad we could catch you. Do you have a moment to talk about your reunion tour?” 

Lucifer’s grace rippled, and his eyes glinted in pleasure as he grinned. “Of course. I always have time for my fans.” 

“Wonderful.” The woman brushed her hair back behind her ear, and she exchanged a quick glance and a nod with the cameraman behind her before she turned back to Lucifer. “We’re here in front of Death Siren Records with Vince Vincente, lead vocalist for Ladyheart. Vince, the last time you and your team toured together was in 1998. What’s it like to be back in the game?” 

She tilted the microphone towards him, and Lucifer’s feathers rustled as he took a moment to think. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s great having the band back together,” he finally lied, hand tightening in a quick squeeze, and Alex pivoted, turning her face away from the camera. “In the studio, feeling pumped. Haven’t felt this fired up in ages.” 

“A lot of people say your style of rock could never make a comeback in today’s landscape,” she heard the reporter continue. “What do you say to them?” 

Lucifer chuckled, and his grip loosened enough for Alex to rip herself free. “I say go to hell.” A small crowd had gathered, and Alex wove her way through it, wings pulled in tight as she hurried to get out of sight. Cameras. The last thing she needed was her face on tv. A woman passing on the street met Alex's eyes; her irises flashed, pupils narrowing into a thin line. Alex spun around, but the creature had already vanished among the masses. 

_Where’d you go, little one?_ Lucifer’s voice thrummed through her mind, and Alex slowed her pace as his grace beckoned her back. She pressed herself up against the white building she had been skirting, eyeing the black lettering mounted on the side. Death Siren Records. The name sounded familiar, and she slunk closer to the doors to try and peer past the dark tinting. Lucifer’s — _Vince’s_ , she corrected — bandmates were in there. Maybe she could find a way to drag him in after this was all over. Lucifer’s grace flicked, and she reluctantly glanced back in his direction. _I’m nearby. Just … getting away from the cameras._ She frowned toward the doors, adding, _I’ll meet you inside when you’re done_.

She ducked into the studio without another word. A gust of air conditioning met her as she stepped into the bright lobby, where the words DEATH SIREN were written in a font reminiscent of street graffiti against a black accent wall. The surrounding walls were white, funneling the eye’s attention onto the logo. A pair of black leather chairs sat beneath it, and Alex slunk over to take a seat. 

“Can I … help you?” A voice came from behind her, and Alex twisted to see a man standing in one of the hallways, a clipboard in his hands. “If you have an appointment —”

“Oh, uh, I don’t.” Alex brushed her hands off on her ripped jeans, and her jacket squeaked against the chairs. “Um … I’m actually with Vince Vincente. He’s outside finishing up an interview.” She flicked a wing off towards the door, following the gesture up with a pointed finger. “He’ll be done in the next couple minutes.” She leaned forward, adding, “Uh, are the other guys still here? Tommy and Micky and uh … the other one?” 

_Neil,_ Lucifer corrected, and Alex pushed him away with a sharp, _Get out of my head_.

“Neil,” the man added aloud, and Alex merely grunted. “Might still be upstairs in studio seven. Vince can take you up there when he gets in.” 

“Perfect.” Alex waved him away, and she sunk back into the chair. The room smelled of disinfectant, and she expelled air through her nose as she readjusted in her seat, kicking off her muddied shoes and drawing her legs up underneath her. The light on her phone was on — a text from Sam, who she had been ignoring for days. For a moment, she played with the power button, letting the screen flicker on and off before she finally swiped the notification away. There was no point in reading it; if it was anything like the odd hundred or so texts he had already sent her way, it contained nothing but pleas and attempts at reason. 

“Whew!” The door flew open and Lucifer stepped in, wings spread almost as wide as his grin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” His eyes swept across the room, and Alex uncurled from the chair as his gaze found her. “What’s got you in a twist, hm? Last time I remember you running like that, half of hell was on your tail.” 

“I don’t like cameras.” Alex tugged on her shoes and rose up, wings curling over her shoulders to invite him closer. “You might not understand this since you can’t seem to keep a vessel for more than a week, but I’ve been wearing this body for the past twenty-some years. There’s a cop in every state that knows my face. I’m sure I’ve been on America’s Most Wanted at least twice. I can’t just walk around Hollywood in broad daylight.”

“You’re afraid of some cops?” Lucifer’s hand cupped her cheek, tilting her chin up to look him in the eyes. “Who exactly do you think I am?”

“Vince Vincente.” The man from before had returned, his clipboard now replaced with a small stack of papers. “Studio seven. Angela's waiting for you.” 

The smile on Lucifer's face faded, replaced with an irritated frown. “Thanks.” He pulled Alex after him, and she had no choice but to follow, her wrist firmly grasped in his fingers. Lucifer waited until they had stepped out of sight before he dropped her hand, and Alex fell in step at his side as they entered the stairwell and started up to the second floor. “So they're all upstairs, hm? You had to pick this building to step into, didn’t you?” 

“You just had to go and possess that vessel, didn’t you?” The dry quip was rewarded by a flutter of crimson wings, and the air was knocked from her lungs as she was spun into the nearest wall, a forearm pressed against her sternum. Lucifer’s face was mere inches from hers, eyes narrowed, but beneath the exterior, amusement danced along his grace. She pushed against his hold, but despite the lack of pressure, it was like moving a wall. Not an inch given to wiggle free. “Didn’t you?” 

“It was cute the first time.” Lucifer’s arm moved, releasing her chest, but before Alex could catch her breath, the hand slid around to the back of her neck. “But don’t push your luck.” The words had heat flushing through Alex’s cheeks, and she turned her head to hide a grin as the archangel stepped away, letting the air, hot in comparison to the touch of his skin, rush between them. “Don’t fall behind.” 

Alex had to dart after him, swiping her fingers through her hair as they exited the stairwell and turned down a hall. “Vince.” A woman stepped out from one of the doors at the far end, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to show up.” Her eyes slipped past him and onto Alex, and for a brief second, her face went blank. “This must be the friend Tommy was talking about. You know, we really don’t let non-band members into the studio —”

“She sticks with me.” Vince pushed his way past the woman, and Alex followed with an apologetic shrug. The room they had stepped into was a sound booth, and Alex circled around to stand beside one of the black leather chairs that were placed against the far wall. Through the window, she could see into the recording studio, the stage empty and dim. “What do you want?”

The woman stepped into the room, her perfect face marred in a frown at Lucifer’s dismissive tone. “Angela Crawford. Vince’s manager,” she introduced, and Alex caught sight of Lucifer rolling his eyes as Angela stepped past him. “You just missed the others by about ten minutes, but you and I do need to talk.” She leaned up against the sound panel, her hands carefully splayed along the edges as she looked Lucifer up and down. “Tommy and the others are having a small get together at the Perch later tonight. Pam Anderson is going to be there — you remember Pam, right?” The question was accompanied with a flickering glance towards Alex, a look that the angel did her best to ignore. “I’m not trying to give you any suggestions, but a reunion tour coupled with rumors of a rekindling of old flames would push this thing into overdrive.” 

Lucifer dropped down into one of the seats, eyes darkening thoughtfully as he slouched, legs spread. Alex perched herself on the edge of the other chair, wings curled around her as she studied the empty stage behind Angela. “I’m listening,” Lucifer finally said, and he rested his cheek against his fist. 

Angela’s grin widened. “Eight o’clock, red dress. You can’t miss her.” The smile faltered as she once again looked towards Alex. “Sorry, it’s invite only.”

“She stays with me.” Lucifer’s voice was low, bordering on a growl, and his wings, unseen, rose up to brush against Alex. “The Perch, you said. We’ll be there.” He waved Alex after him as he rose, pausing in the doorway as Alex hesitated. 

Angela had put her hand out to stop her, forcing the angel to pull up short with a frustrated snort. “I’m only trying to help you, Vince,” she warned. “You want publicity, and that’s what I’m offering. Make sure you come back here tomorrow,” she added in a firmer tone. “We need to talk about the first show.” 

Lucifer’s only response was to flash a single thumbs up, and then he was gone. Alex brushed Angela aside, muttering out something that could have been construed as an apology before she too followed Lucifer out the door. 

**T** he bar — The Perch, Angela had called it — was a dimly lit mix of gleaming wooden tables and leather booths. The pounding of the bass drowned out the slow thump of Lucifer’s heart, a steady measure of calm, and Alex had to push her grace up against his vessel to feel it again. The action was quickly followed by her pushing herself closer as a man moved past, two drinks balanced in his hands. “This is dumb.” Her voice was lost beneath the music, and she momentarily leaned her head against Lucifer’s shoulder. “I saw a monster earlier. We could be out hunting it down, not doing … this.” 

Lucifer chuckled, and one wing curled around her shoulder, keeping her near. “Come on, _mahoath._ Live a little.” The wing shifted downwards so Alex could see, but a hand moved up to take its place, wrapping around her waist and pulling her close as his lips brushed across her ear. “I’ve been in that little melon of yours. Isn’t this what you always wanted? A life outside of hunting. Just you, me, and maybe a big house out on a cliff. You can stay home, maybe watch the kids, and I’ll, you know, rule heaven, hell, and everything in between.” 

Alex lifted her chin to look him in the eyes, head snapping back to find his face too close for comfort. “K-Kids?” Her brow furrowed as she looked away, and she let her wings drop as the hand around her waist curled beneath her jacket to toy with the hem of her shirt.

The action was accompanied by a grin. “Who knows. At this point, I’m just playing it all by ear.” Lucifer tugged on her shirt, a sharp, teasing motion. “I thought I hit it off pretty well with Ashiel, after all. But,” he said, and the hand shifted to rest against her hip, the brush of his skin cold against hers, “first things first. Let’s get this show on the road.” 

Tommy emerged from the crowd, a beer in his hand. His eyes, having scanned the room, landed on them, and Alex watched as a quizzical frown slid onto his face. “Didn’t think you’d make it.” That was addressed to Lucifer, his gaze turning to the archangel halfway through. “Angela couldn’t get a hold of you this morning.” 

“We found each other later.” Lucifer pulled free from Alex’s waist, and he clapped his hands together as he looked around. “Let’s get the party started, huh? Who’s here?” 

“A lot of the local crowd. Angela wanted to keep this public, you know, so the word gets out there.” Tommy’s attention strayed back to Alex, and this time, the frown returned tenfold. “Look Vince, if you wanna keep your shadow around in private, fine. But Angie leaked a tip that you and Pam were both gonna be here tonight. If you want to play her game, you gotta lose the girl. You know that.” Tommy shifted closer, and his voice dropped into a murmur. “You keep her around too long, people are gonna start to wonder.” 

Lucifer’s eyes darkened, growing distant as he thought. Even when Tommy walked away, the archangel’s expression didn’t change. “Luce?” Alex circled around to stand in front of him; when there was no response, she put a hand on his chest. “He’s got a point. The less publicity I get, the better I —”

“No.” Lucifer’s hand came up to cover hers, and Alex hummed at the scrape of his nails against her knuckles. “I shouldn't let you out of my sight.” The thought was growled, and it took Alex a moment to realize that the sound wasn’t coming from his voice, but rather from his grace, twisting alongside the spoken words. “You’re cute, you know that?” The hand over hers moved to the base of her neck, and Alex gasped as he yanked her hair back, baring her throat. “But you’re weak.” His cold breath ghosted against her cheek, and Alex grunted as his grip tightened. “I let you go for five minutes, and the Winchesters have tied your hands in knots. And to think you almost had me convinced that you could take care of yourself." 

His grip loosened just enough so Alex could tip her head forward. “I can —”

“Shh.” Lucifer’s fingers moved again, and Alex winced as they brushed across her shoulder; Castiel’s grace leapt up at the touch, burning blue at the junction where their graces had knit together. “I should take you away from here.” Again, his voice dropped to a murmur, so much so that Alex had to lean closer to hear over the music. “Rip his grace out of you and —” 

“Vince Vincente.” A soft, effeminate voice came from over the archangel’s shoulders, and Lucifer's touch lingered a second longer before he pulled away. A flick of his wing across Alex’s chest was enough to send her retreating several steps, swallowing back a disgruntled frown. She caught a glimpse of the woman as Lucifer turned: the red dress, slim and clinging to all the right curves, gave her away as Vince’s arranged date. “Whoever said the years don’t age gracefully...”

The rest of her line was lost beneath the clamor as Alex stepped away, hands shoved deep into her pockets. “Can’t take care of myself my ass,” she muttered. “Try and rip out his grace and I’ll rip out your teeth.” The threat was hollow, little more than an attempt at regaining his attention, but Lucifer’s guard had dropped, and with a sigh, Alex reached down for Castiel’s grace; for a moment, she let herself lean into the warmth of his essence. She could see him in the back of her mind, and a single image flashed across her eyes before he rose up in turn, sharp and insistent. Within a moment, Lucifer’s grace crashed through her system, a shower of stinging ice that punched a dry yelp from her throat. 

A few eyes turned in her direction, and Alex ducked her head, her cheeks burning. She could feel Lucifer’s grace within her, pulsing and seething, but she did her best to brush the anger away. A glance over her shoulder showed Lucifer already settling into one of the tables, one arm slung over the back of the chair. The woman in the red dress was seating herself across from him. Her lips were moving, quirked into a plump smile, but Alex found herself frowning when her blue eyes darted off to land on her. The look lasted only a moment, but the woman’s head tilted as she spoke. A question. Lucifer’s response was a flick of his hand, dismissive and disregarding, and Alex turned away with a sulking scowl. Lucifer’s grace had returned to barricading Castiel, and his frigid rebuke had left her brain aching.

A flash of golden eyes caught her attention and Alex turned. Was that —

A man brushed past her, a drink balanced in each hand, and Alex ducked out of the way to avoid any sharp words. When she turned back, the eyes were gone. Darkness saturated the back third of the bar, and it took Alex a second for her eyes to adjust before the booths came into focus. She recognized a familiar face: Tommy, the band's drummer. He was seated in the corner, sipping on his beer as he watched the two other men who sat across from them. It took Alex a moment before she recognized them as well. “Hey, it’s Micky and, uh, Neil, right?” She stopped in front of their table, wings flittering as she looked between the three musicians. A grim shadow had settled over the booth as three pairs of eyes turned onto her, and Alex scrubbed at her arm, gaze dropping towards the ground under their stares. “Can I sit down?” 

There was a moment of silence, and Alex almost turned away before Tommy straightened up in his seat. “Can we have another round?” He spoke over her shoulder, and Alex glanced back to find a raven-haired waitress standing there. She almost missed the gesture that went with the order: a show of four fingers. The waitress disappeared back into the crowd, and Tommy shook his head. “Knock yourself out.” 

“Thanks.” Alex dropped down next to him, and she tucked her hands between her knees as she studied the three. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. And, uh, sorry that we didn’t make it to the studio in time. I lost all of my stuff on the trip in and needed some new clothes.” She tugged on the zipper of her leather jacket to emphasize her words, pretending to busy herself with the sleeve as the three exchanged looks. 

“So, you’re not from around here.” 

“No, I’m from …” Alex hesitated, mouth half open. “The … midwest. I met Vince in” — where had that been? — “Ohio not too long ago.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tommy’s jaw tighten, and she quickly cleared her throat. “He, uh, told me to meet him here, so I drove out.” 

Across from her, Neil finished the last of his drink with a shake of his head. “Maybe we’ve been away from Vince longer than we thought.” His voice was low, rumbling, and full of scorn. “He’s always been a lady’s man, but you — he’s old enough to be your grandfather.” 

Alex snorted, and she hid it by ducking her head. _I don’t think you know how old he truly is_. “It’s not like what you think.” She reached out with her grace, searching for Lucifer, but the archangel kept her at bay. “There’s nothing going on between me and Vince — Vince and I.” She fell silent as the waitress returned, four beers balanced on a silver tray. They were distributed with a bright smile, and Alex murmured out her thanks. She watched as the three around her shared glances, an even mix of skepticism and vexation, and Alex did her best to keep her face plain. 

“So … you’re just friends.” Cynicism deepened Tommy’s voice, and Micky leaned over to whisper something in Neil’s ear — Alex didn’t bother to listen in. 

“Yeah.” Alex swallowed down her drink, feathers curling at the bitter, clove-like taste that sat above the burn of alcohol. Her eyes flickered back towards Lucifer, but the archangel was obscured from view; only the tip of a crimson wing was visible. “Just friends.” 

“Aaron!” Across from her, Neil leaned forward, a hand raised towards the crowd, and Alex pressed herself into the booth to avoid his splayed fingers. “Over here.” 

Alex ducked out from the booth, grabbing her drink and muttering a quiet “see ya later,” to the band. _That could have been much worse_. They didn’t call her back or even glance her way, and Alex was able to weave her way through the crowd, unable to hold back a small, fleeting grin at her own quick wit. She had handled that pretty well, all things considering. The touch of awkward humility always sold it. The smile was quick to fade. She could see Lucifer up ahead; he was leaning forward, a drink in one hand. His back was to her, but the smile on Pam’s face made it clear he wore a similar grin. 

Lucifer had felt her presence; his wings flittered in her direction, but Alex’s feet were already carrying her towards the back door. She paused by the wall, just long enough to take a few gulps of her beer, before she stepped out into the night. 

The air hadn’t yet gained its midnight chill, still warm from the bright sun, but even still, Alex drew her wings in tight. Castiel’s grace was starting to squirm again, itching against Lucifer’s barricade, and Alex looked up and down the alleyway as she brought the single image she had seen through Castiel’s eyes back into her mind. The look hadn’t been much, but there was something familiar about the distant, darkened skyline. 

“Going somewhere?” Lucifer’s voice sounded from behind her, a low rumble, and Alex’s wings unfolded. “We only just got here.” 

His hand found her shoulder, and a gentle tug had her turning. “What’s the point in staying? I don’t know anyone.” She moved to shrug off his touch, but his face was closer than she had anticipated, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath, mingling with her own. “I should just head back to the hotel. This isn’t really my scene.” 

“Alone?” Lucifer cupped her cheek, and Alex felt his grace shift within him, rising up until the edges of his irises glowed in the moonlight. “This is a big city, _enay._ " _Angel_. "Something as small as you is bound to get lost.” His cold fingers danced across her skin, and after a moment he added, “Perhaps I should come with.” 

The glint in his eyes took the innocence out of his words, and Alex’s broken feathers dragged down his jacket as she extracted herself from his grip. “I think someone my size can navigate four blocks, _iaidaenay,_ ” she said, jaw setting as she held Lucifer’s stare. _Archangel_. “After all, you’ve got a date you can’t just leave high and dry, right?” 

Lucifer’s smile was thin, and he stepped away with a quiet chuckle. "Don't delay," he warned. "You want to prove to me that you're capable without my supervision? Go ahead." He nodded towards the bustling street, and Alex squared her jaw as she glanced behind her. “Call me if you run into trouble,” she heard him say, his voice a rumbling purr. “I’ll always come for you.” 

“You won’t have to.” Alex’s wings lifted, arches curling as she scowled. The quirk of Lucifer’s lips — amusement — only fueled the fire that jealousy had started, and Alex stalked away, feathers rustling as she shook out her wings. _I’m walking back to the hotel, not walking through hell._

She stepped out of the alleyway, hands carding through her hair as she forced the frustration from her face. The sidewalk was packed, people walking shoulder to shoulder, and Alex ducked into an open patch, wings drawing in as she looked around. Which way was it?

It had to be left. The angel kept her head low as she swam upstream, dodging elbows and feet. The further she got from The Perch, the more her anger faded from a flame into smoldering ash. Why did he always push her like that? It was like he knew every button of hers to press, and the way he’d grin — he found it amusing! That thought alone had her scowling, and a pair of women gave her a wide berth as they passed. _But you like it._ The little voice in her head sounded like Lucifer, so much so that she dug down to make sure it hadn’t originated in his grace. _That’s why you goad him on, isn’t it?_

A shoulder bumped into hers, and Alex turned to apologize, but the words died in her throat. In that brief second where the stranger’s face was visible — even through the night, broken by the flashing neon lights — Alex could tell that something was wrong. The woman had barely paused, leaving Alex standing, frozen, on the sidewalk. What was that? Her grace rose up, twisting into knots as she stared into the crowd. Not human, obviously, but in that brief moment of contact, it had been impossible to tell. 

Her feet carried her forward on their own accord, back in the direction of The Perch. _What was it?_ The woman was nowhere in sight, swallowed up by the crowds, but Alex pushed on. _This is a bad idea_. That voice was back, soft and chiding, and it was enough to slow her step. It was a bad idea. _But a monster's a monster. And it'll show him just how capable you are_. She skirted the bar as she passed, clinging close to the street in case she was spotted by a familiar face, and — there. It had to be the same person; how many blue-haired women in black leather could there be?

Alex darted across the street — barely missing a Corvette that sped by on her left — and ducked down the side road. The woman was already near the end, turning the corner without a glance back, and Alex followed. She moved cautiously, canvas shoes hugging the shadows. Here, the neon signs were less prevalent, leaving swathes of pavement to be swallowed up by the night. A few passersby lingered, but she paid them no attention, and them her. 

The road the woman had ducked down was less of a street and more of an alleyway. The only lights came from single yellow bulbs hung above steel doors, and at the end, a chain link fence rose up from behind a pair of dumpsters. The woman was still there — facing her. Alex drew herself up at the sight of the yellow eyes. _Werewolf._ “What’s an angel like you doing in a city like this?” The woman’s voice was sweet, a thick, dark honey, but the glint in her golden eyes left no illusions. “Mitch said that your type wasn’t allowed past the outer suburbs.” 

“Mitch?” Alex’s grace twisted against her angel blade. “I don’t know where he got that idea, but I just drove in on the highway. Seems to me like if there was a ban on angels, that’d be a pretty good place to enforce it.” She let her eyes turn up towards the half-moon, adding, “Pure-blood?” 

“Once-removed.” The words were spoken as fangs flashed, yellow irises constricting in a brief moment of diminished control. “Why? Are you some sort of angelic Constantine or something?”

Alex didn’t bother to hide her smile; the darkness would do that for her. “Something like that. At least, I used to be.” Her weapon dropped into her hands, and she stepped forward into a small patch of moonlight. 

For the first time, surprise danced in the wolf’s eyes. “You haven’t heard the news, have you? I’m not surprised, with your kind just sitting in heaven with their heads in their asses, but down here, the King of LA proposed a truce. We each fill our niche, and as long as we don’t get too greedy, we’re left alone. No bounties, no hunters, no one out to make a cheap buck.” The fangs retreated, sliding back behind blue-painted lips, even as her gaze dropped onto Alex’s weapon. “Kill me,” she warned, “and you’ll start a war.” 

Lucifer’s grace twisted within her, and Alex shoved it down before it could reach her eyes. If she was going to do this, it had to be now. “I’ll start a war without you.” 

The quip didn’t make much sense but, as she glided forward, that moment of inspired confusion was all she needed to strike. She drove the heel of her palm in the werewolf’s forehead, sending her stumbling back into the fence. She followed in one swift step, and her momentum buried the angel blade deep into flesh. The metal cut through the outer clothing like butter, but the scrape of the sides against the metal zipper set Alex’s teeth on edge. Her grace spiraled down the lines of the blade, and the werewolf’s face exploded into tongues of light that charred the surrounding skin. 

The monster collapsed as Alex stepped back, weapon sliding free from the chest with a wet sound. Lucifer’s grace had resettled itself, but there were no promises that it would remain that way for long. Best to get back to the hotel —

She turned to go, but a figure in the alleyway blocked her escape. Tall and dark, with a frame hidden by a bulky black trench coat — for a moment, the silhouette was so much like Crowley’s that it had Alex jumping back. 

It was a demon, but it wasn’t Crowley. As Alex’s grace rose up, his face became clear. Blonde hair, sharp nose. For a moment, the face flickered, twisting into a being of raw flesh and empty sockets, its hell-charred jaws gaping in agony, but the image vanished as the creature spoke. “You must be Alex.” 

“You … I’ve never met you.” Alex’s grace pulled her weapon back up into her sleeve, and she stepped forward, the remnants of her wings fanning out in the night air as she eyed the demon. “Whose side are you on?” The demon’s face remained blank, and her wings fluttered. “Well?” she pressed. “If you’ve got to choose between Crowley and Lucifer, whose dick are you riding?” 

The demon cracked a smile, and his hands slipped into his pockets as he regarded the angel. “Just consider me a free agent.” A hand came free to gesture to the city around them before it promptly disappeared again. “I’m here because of Crowley, but that’s back when he was the undisputed king.” His eyes shifted past her, onto the unmoving corpse. “I don’t like you.” The blunt admittance took Alex aback, and the demon sauntered forward. “Never have, doubt I ever will. You and that egotistical bedmate of yours.” 

Alex’s wings bristled, and her grace twitched against her weapon, but she forced her fingers to uncurl. “I’m sorry — have we even met before? Who the hell are you?” 

“You can call me Mitch. I run this city in every sense but the legal one.” He circled around Alex, and the angel followed suit, wings drawing in as he paused beside the werewolf. He nudged at the arm that was splayed across the concrete, and even in the dim light, Alex could see the frown that briefly marred his smooth face. “I’ll be honest.” Mitch stepped over the corpse with a dismissive shake of his head. “I don’t want either of you in my town, but I don’t have the manpower to evict you myself.” 

The threat in his tone was so strong, so clear, that Alex instinctively reached down for the guidance of Lucifer’s grace, but she paused before she opened a channel to him. _No_. She pulled back and straightened up, and her eyes flashed blue with her own fragile grace. She didn’t need him. “Sounds like a problem alright,” she agreed. “So what’s your plan?” Alex flicked a wing down towards the body at Mitch’s feet. “More of these, I hope. Anything to keep me from having to go to any more of these goddamn ‘social events.’ ” Her lips curled into a thin scowl. “I don’t know how you —”

Lucifer’s grace shifted, waking up within her, and Alex’s back snapped straight. _Time to go._ She turned away, wings flapping twice to hide her own haste. “You won’t have to deal with it for long.” It was the smugness in Mitch’s voice that had her pausing. “Trouble’s on its way.” 

Alex didn’t have to look back to know that the demon had vanished. She shook out her wings again, hands shoved into her pockets as she made her way back towards the boulevard. A demon running LA. Maybe she could make staying here work after all. 

Alex skirted The Perch, clinging to the other side of the road to avoid detection. She should already be back at the hotel by now. If Lucifer wasn’t still occupied at the bar, she was going to be in trouble. For a moment she paused, eyes on the vertical neon sign. She could go back inside — claim she was wrong for leaving and that she just wanted to be with him — but pride had her continuing down the road. If there was one thing she would never do, it would be to concede to him without a fight. Not yet, anyways. This time, she kept her eyes up, alert for any sign that the buzz of life around her was more than just human. 

Most of the crowd was just that, but the closer she looked, the more she caught sight of a flash of fangs here, a glimpse of shimmering eyes there. A pair of blue wings — 

A pair of blue wings. Alex reeled back, and her own wings collided with a street performer, ethereal tangling with the physical. Castiel was standing on the other side of the street, seemingly lost as the crowds swelled around him. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she drew her wings in close. How was he here? Was he following her? She reached down for Lucifer’s thinning barrier, skirting around it in search of degradation. 

Castiel’s head snapped up, his blue eyes burning into hers. _Shit._ His mouth opened, but even though the shout was lost beneath the street life, her name rang loud through her head. 

Alex bolted. She tore through the crowds, ducking under arms and past bodies as she fought to escape. Castiel couldn’t catch her. Not here and now. _Now would be a good time to call Lucifer_ , that small voice said, but she pushed it aside with a snarl so fierce it had the couple ahead of her jumping out of the way. She couldn’t call him — all it would do is get Castiel killed and get her in trouble for straying. _You shouldn’t be here_. She dug down for Castiel’s grace as she spoke, worming through Lucifer’s barrier only long enough to speak. _Get out of town and leave us alone!_

Hands slammed into her shoulders, and Alex bit back a squeak as she stumbled back between two buildings. Darkness washed over her as the bright street disappeared from view, and her wings flared up and out. Even before her grace rose to combat the dark, she knew her attacker was a stranger; his shoulders stood not much taller than hers, and her hands, grappled around his arms, could feel the coarse hair that grew there. With a snarl, she twisted the wrists and they snapped, the sound muffled by her attacker’s scream. 

“Alex!” She had made it three steps before that voice stopped her. A chain-link fence barricaded her escape, and the angel grimaced before she turned around. Castiel was standing beside the stranger, who had fallen to the concrete, clutching his broken bones. Castiel's own wings were drawn in, only the faintest curl of their arches giving away his intensity. “Wait.” His wings stretched out when Alex’s eyes darted past him, searching for escape, and the alleyway was filled with broken blue feathers. 

Alex was quick to snap her wings out, bare vanes rattling like bones. She worked her jaw as she watched Castiel reach out; with the short distance between them, Lucifer's shield was little more than a mesh net, too thin to hold back the bond, and she was painfully aware of Castiel's grace as it spiraled down his arm and into the trembling man. Shattered bones mended, and the man’s deep, open-mouthed gasp was audible through the silence. He waited only a moment, only long enough for Castiel’s hand to pull away, before he scrambled up, tripping in his own haste as he bolted. Once he was out of sight, Alex scoffed. “I think you scared him more than I did.” 

The scorn in her voice seemed to be lost upon the seraph, whose wings twitched once before they folded in. “I didn’t expect to actually find you here. Whatever Lucifer’s done, your grace is muted to me. I didn’t even feel you until you were within ten feet.” 

Alex felt her chest twist, and she ground her teeth until the feeling faded. “It’s for the best.” She reached down, gently feeling around their bond; the warmth of Castiel's grace had begun to creep outwards, tendrils seeping into her limbs. “What are you doing here?” Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to steady it, praying it didn’t sound like desperation. “Can’t you just leave us in peace?” 

“Peace?” Castiel stepped forward. “How many vessels has Lucifer burned through? How many more does he have to kill before you see what he’s doing?” 

Alex’s feathers ruffled, puffing out as she squared up against the seraph. “You can’t put that on him. What — are you telling me you’ve _never_ had a vessel fail on you? And it’s not — it’s not like he likes vessel hopping, anyways.” She swiped a hand through her hair, and urgency dropped her voice into a whisper. “I won’t let him hurt anyone else, Cas. Not if it gets you a-and Crowley and the Winchesters to stay away.” 

A sense of weariness washed through her, spilling out from Castiel. “You can’t stop him from killing, no more than you can stop a fish from swimming.” Alex’s indignation rose, fighting back against the seraph’s emotional fatigue, but Castiel continued on. “Are you willing to let people die just to keep him around?” 

Lucifer’s grace arose within her, the only warning Alex had before crimson wings cut through the night above her head. She snapped her jaw shut; anger brought a curse to her lips, but fear had frozen her tongue. "Well, well." Now that Lucifer was near, his grace consumed her, pulling her beneath its torrents and trapping her under the ice. "What's going on here?" 

"Luce, it's okay. I’m handling this." 

" _You_ were supposed to have been back at the hotel five minutes ago." His voice was loose, calm, but the faint twitch of the muscles in his wings betrayed hidden frustration. "Did you get lost?"

Bare feathers rustled as Castiel's wings rose up, and the corner of Lucifer's lip turned up in a smirk. "Castiel." He took a step forward, and the glint in his eyes became predatory, a wolf before a lamb. "I thought I told you to stay clear." The seraph's eyes darted towards Alex, only returning to Lucifer when the archangel clicked his tongue. "Remember my promise, Castiel. My patience is wearing thin." 

Castiel's jaw set even as a glimmer of unease surfaced; whatever cryptic threat had been made, it had surely hit a nerve. "Think about what I said." 

The words were addressed to Alex, but a quiet, taunting, "Tick tock," had him turning away, battered wings drawing in as he disappeared down the street. One second Alex was standing in the alleyway, Lucifer positioned in front of her, and the next, his hand was on her arm. The street disappeared, giving way to the night sky followed almost instantaneously by the white walls of the hotel room. A snap of the fingers had the lights springing to life, and Alex squared her jaw as she turned for a fight. 

Lucifer had already wandered away, dropping down into the armchair. His wings stretched across the rug, dragging languidly through the soft piles. His finger was against his lips, taking up a quiet, thoughtful tap as his eyes dragged up and down Alex's form. Her wings instinctively drew up, curling around her under his gaze. "What am I going to do with you?" The words were spoken softly; so softly, in fact, that Alex wasn't convinced he wasn't merely talking to himself. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he straightened up in his seat, motioning her to sit with a wave of his hand.

Alex obliged, perching herself on the couch as she leveled her gaze. "What do you mean?" Lucifer's gaze rose up inside of her as she spoke, twisting around Castiel's and tucking it out of sight. "You don't think _I_ called him here, do you?" Her voice rose, still riding high on adrenaline, but the accusation was dismissed with a shake of Lucifer's head. "Then … what?" 

"Clearly you shouldn't be wandering off on your own, not with them in town. Not where I can't feel you." A faint snarl ghosted across his face, quickly quelled even as his grace dug deeper into the nest it had made within Alex. "You'll stay by my side whenever possible." 

Alex wasn't sure if it was a request or a command; the bite to the words seemed to imply the latter. "Huh. Don't you think that'll be a little awkward on your dates?" she retorted, rising to her feet with a scoff. "I'm not sure third-wheeling is one of my things." 

"Speaking of." Lucifer rose as well, and Alex stepped aside as he pushed his way past. "I left Pamela waiting. Another hour or two should be long enough to get the public's gears turning." He turned, and Alex narrowed her eyes as his cold fingers cupped her cheek. His eyes bore into hers, searching as his grace wound upwards towards her head. "You may not be willing to give me your love, but at least I have your jealousy." The corner of his lips twitched into — a snarl? A smile? It was gone so quickly Alex couldn't tell. "I won't stay long. Just long enough to let her down." The fingers drummed, soft and soothing, and then they pulled away. "Don't stray." 

He crossed over to the door, and his grace twisted as he brushed his hand across the panels, burning a single twisted sigil into the wood. Alex stepped toward him, hesitating as his eyes turned towards her. "I'll stay put," she promised. "Just, Luce … promise me you won't hurt her." 

Amusement danced in Lucifer's eyes. "I won't." His wings unfolded, and he disappeared, leaving Alex standing alone in the middle of the room. Two steps took her to the door, and she let her hand hover over the warding. It was unfamiliar, but its intention was clear; either it was meant to keep things out, or to keep her in. _Probably both._ She hurried over to the balcony and stepped out into the night. Wind whipped through her hair, and Alex stretched out her wings to take in the gust even as her eyes drifted down to the street far, far below. Castiel was somewhere down there, searching for her. Lucifer's grace had dwindled again, and she felt her bond with the seraph beckoning her to open up and let him in. How long had she been without him? Too long, according to her grace. With a heavy sigh, she stepped back inside, doing her best to ignore the call; it might allow her to see where he was, but it would inevitably allow him to do the same, to track her down to this very room. 

_Remember my promise, Castiel_. Lucifer's words rang through her head, and Alex dropped down onto the couch with a huff. Neither had spoken to her about a 'promise,' but she'd be damned if it didn't involve some form of harm against her mate. " _Βλάκας_." The curse escaped her lips before she could stop it. _Idiot_. Not only did she need to get Castiel out of town, but she needed to keep the two angels from killing each other in the process. And on top of that, the Winchesters —

Alex fell back into the cushions with a groan. On top of everything, Castiel's presence meant one thing. The Winchesters were on their way.


	6. Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox

**W** inchesters. 

Alex’s eyes locked with Sam’s, her feet carrying her backwards even as Sam’s carried him forward. A flash of flannel from his right side had Alex twisting out of the way, ducking as she went, but an arm caught her across the neck, a band of iron that pinned her against the dusty brick wall. She heard Jody shout, the sound lost beneath the thud of her body and the ringing in her ears. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and Lucifer’s grace rattled, rising to her eyes with a violent red glow. _No, no, don’t — I’m okay!_

“Like hell you are!” Dean’s face was inches from hers, and Alex slammed her head back against the bricks as warm metal pressed against her neck — had she spoken that aloud? “What are you doing here?” 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sam yanked his brother away, and Alex gasped for air, rubbing at her throat with a scowl. “What the hell, Dean? Give her some space.” He pushed himself between the two of them, one hand on Dean’s chest to keep him at bay. His eyes studied Alex, darting across her face as he searched for … something. “What are you doing here?” He repeated his brother’s question, softer this time, and Alex dropped her hands to her side. 

“Wendigo.” Her voice rasped, and she took a moment to steady it. “Couple campers have died up in these woods so I knew something needed to be put down.” She tugged the collar of her jacket to the side to show off the ripped shirt, beneath which thin pink lines still marred her flesh, left there by the creature’s claws. “Your turn. How the hell did you guys find me?” 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Alex took the moment of silence to glance over at Jody; she was watching them, eyes wide. “We didn’t,” Sam finally admitted. 

“Hell, we didn’t even know you were in town until you walked around that corner,” Dean added, and he reluctantly returned the angel blade to the inner pocket of his coat. “Where’s the boytoy, huh? I can’t imagine he’s far behind.” 

The scorn in his voice earned him a sharp look from Sam, and Alex lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I haven’t seen him since Rowena banished him to the Challenger Deep. For all I know, he’s still down there somewhere.” She glanced off past Jody, curling her grace around Lucifer’s. _Winchesters are in town. Get out._ She didn’t wait for a response before she turned back to the brothers. “So if you’re not here for me …” 

Lucifer’s grace roiled within her. _I’ll be right there._

_Stay away. You’re still weak. I can handle this —_

“I’m sorry — can I ask what the _hell_ is going on?” Jody said, and Alex shook herself free from the thought. “What happened between the three of you, huh? I thought you were a team.” She crossed her arms, a gesture made awkward by the presence of her coffee cup, but it was enough to have Alex dropping her gaze to the concrete. 

“It’s complicated,” she ground out with a glare towards Dean. “Just a difference in priorities, mostly. Right?” 

The Winchester hesitated, and for a moment, green eyes met grey as he contemplated his words. “Something like that,” he eventually grumbled, and Alex’s wings sagged in relief. “We should get going. The wake starts at sundown.” He stalked back towards the car, leaving Alex standing beside Jody Mills. The young angel tipped her head, regarding the brothers with a small frown; maybe Jody hadn’t been lying about this Asa Fox character. Dean paused beside the driver’s side door. “You coming? Not you,” he added sharply as Alex stepped after Jody. “You’re not invited.” 

“Hey.” Jody’s eyes flashed. “Remember who invited who, huh? She’s my guest as much as you are.” 

“It’s okay. I really don’t have to come along.” Alex started to step backwards, but the sheriff’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

“Nonsense. You said you didn’t have a ride, right?” Jody crossed over to the backseat of the Impala, and Alex’s wings drooped to find herself caught in her lie. She reluctantly followed after Jody as she reached down for Lucifer’s grace. _Looks like I’m stuck here for the night. I’ll catch up to you when I can._

She felt displeasure radiate along his grace, but the single warning in her head was calm. _Be careful._ It disappeared as she slid into the backseat, settling against the old, familiar leather. The car roared to life, the engine fueled by Dean’s frustration, and she sunk lower, reclining her shoulder against the door. She could feel Jody’s eyes on her, a million questions burning in her gaze, and she cleared her throat. “So, what have you two been up to since … since … you know?” She reached forward with her grace, adding, “How are you feeling, Sam?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Not much,” Dean added over his brother. “Hunted a few ghosts, found a telepath … I killed Hitler.” The gruffness had started to leave his voice, something like triumph creeping in, and Alex found herself meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. 

The angel took a moment, eyes narrowed as she racked her brain. “I … don’t think I get that reference,” she finally admitted, forcing a faint note of humor. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It mean’s I fucking killed _Hitler_.” The Impala swung around a corner, tires squealing. “Remember Aaron Bass — that kid who’s grandpa had gift-wrapped a golem and delivered it on Christmas Day?” He only waited long enough for Alex to give a hesitant nod before he continued on. “And we hunted all those necromancers — they called themselves the Thule Society.” 

“Ah.” Alex drew her legs up under her as she nodded again. “Oh, okay, okay. So you guys got to hunt some more Nazi necromancers.” 

“We hunted the fucking Nazi necromancer _motherlode_ ,” Dean corrected. “The Thule’s one goal was to resurrect Hitler after the war. They had preserved his soul in this watch, and once they found it, they were going to put him back into a body and take over the world.” His earlier anger begun to slip away, replaced with smug excitement; a glance at both Sam and Jody confirmed Alex’s suspicions that this story had already been told on this road trip. “Okay, okay, here’s what happened.” 

**I** t was dark by the time the Impala pulled down the driveway of the Fox Estate, the paved edges lit with small orange lanterns. A line of cars were parked along the grass that led up to the large house, the windows bright and full of life. Music could be heard, muffled by the brick walls, but it was enough to have Alex lifting her head. She took a moment to study the structure before them, the wings of the massive house disappearing into the darkness on either side. “That’s a big house.” Sam spoke her very thoughts, and Alex grunted as she lifted her grace to her eyes to take in its extent; who was this hunter? 

Dean pulled the Impala into the grass beside the large center fountain, and Jody reached for the door handle as the engine died. “It’s a family home,” she explained. “Asa was just a guy.” She stepped out, and Alex followed, shaking out her wings in the night air. She let her grace fall from her face and instead trickle out towards the house, but the slamming of the other doors had her pulling back. With a small frown, she circled around to stand on the other side of Jody, using the sheriff as a barrier between her and Dean. Jody’s eyes found the side of her head, confused and concerned, but Alex refused to pay it any attention. The gaze lingered for several seconds before it turned away with a poorly concealed sigh. “Come on.” 

Alex fell in step at the rear of the group as they crossed the drive to stand beneath the arched porch. The music had grown louder, and she could make out the faint words beneath the clamor. _Won’t you come and save me? Feed my eyes — can you sew them shut?_ They were momentarily drowned out by the doorbell, and Alex cast a look around the dark as footsteps approached from the inside. It opened a moment later, revealing a middle-aged woman. Her short hair was dyed blonde, an attempt to hide her age, but a hint of greying brown was still visible at the roots. A string of pearls hung from her neck, the only touch of color to her mourning attire. “Jody!” Despite the smile on her face, sadness clung to her chocolate eyes, partially obscured by a pair of thick, round glasses. “Oh, Jody, thanks for coming.”

She embraced the sheriff, who returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as she was given. “Loraine, of course,” Jody said, pulling back with a smile of her own. “How are you holding up?” 

Loraine Fox shook her head. “Well, it’s a house full of _loud”_ — that word was shouted over her shoulder, to no effect on the clamor of the house — “drunk hunters, and my son’s dead body is in the parlor. But I haven’t slit my wrists yet.” She smiled at her own joke, but the humor was quick to fade. “Small victories.” 

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Sam said, and for the first time, Loraine seemed to notice the three others. Her eyes turned across both brothers before dropping down to Alex, who had tucked herself into the corner of the entryway, but her gaze didn’t linger. 

It took a moment for a response to come, but when it did, it was quick and dismissive. “I know. Everyone’s sorry.” Loraine walked away, mumbling another thought under her breath, but it was lost beneath the music. 

Jody watched her go, turning back to the Winchesters once Loraine had disappeared. "So … this is going to be fun." 

"Yeah." Dean looked around, taking in the people passing by. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to find the kitchen and see what there is to drink around here." He sauntered away, almost immediately swallowed up by the crowd. Alex took a moment to study the hunters as they milled around; none of them looked familiar, but it was a big house — there was no telling who could be here. 

"I guess I should go see if I can find Bucky," Jody said, her voice shaking Alex from her thoughts. "He was one of Asa's best friends. You coming with?" 

It took Alex a second to realize that she was being addressed, and she tore her gaze away from the crowd. "Uh, I think I'll just mingle for a bit, thanks. I'll catch up with you later." Jody nodded, and when she too walked away, Alex turned to Sam. "I don't want to mingle," she admitted, too quietly for others around her to hear. "Can I stay with you?" Sam's eyes darkened, and Alex folded her wings forward. "Please. Dean won't let me anywhere near him, and Jody's just going to ask too many questions." 

Indecision battled in Sam's eyes, and Alex waited with bated breath until he nodded. "Okay," he relented. "Fine. But you're not off any hooks." 

"Never thought I was." Alex followed Sam off to the left, staying close to his side as they entered the swarm. Eyes turned their way, stares hardened by years of distrust and faces scarred and beaten. Alex drew her wings in close as she looked around, never letting her own gaze rest in one place for too long. She felt Sam's own unease, resonating alongside her own, and she glanced up to find a thin, unsure smile flicker across his face, accompanied by a small nod whenever his eyes met another pair. 

"Hey." A voice drew their attention, and a woman beckoned them forward. She was young, dark-skinned just like the man who sat at her side — siblings, if Alex had to guess. They had the same eyes. The two sat on a couch in the middle of the room, the brother's arm slung across the back and a beer in his hand. He gestured towards a chair next to them, and Sam hesitated only a second before he sat down. "You look lost." 

"Uh, yeah." Sam forced another grin, and Alex perched on the corner of the coffee table, close enough that her battered wings brushed against his calf. "We just got here. Uh, Sam Winchester." He extended a hand to both of them before he gestured to the angel at his side. "This is Alex." 

Alex sated herself with a small nod, unable to help but cast a look around to see if any other party-goer had caught the exchange of names. "Alicia," the woman introduced; her face was round and soft, but there was a dangerous light to her eyes, one she couldn't have hid if she had tried. "This is my brother Max." 

“Max Bane.” The man’s dark eyes seemed to stare through Alex, and the angel’s grace flicked out with a frown. There was something off about the two. Their souls were … different, tainted by a slick, thin layer that left a faint, almost bittersweet taste in her mouth. “That must mean the guy who just passed through here was Dean.” 

“You’ve heard of us,” Sam said, and at the same time Alex added, “You’re witches — or, uh, whatever.” She nodded towards Max. “Magic users.” 

The two exchanged looks, and Alex’s feathers rustled as she shifted on her perch. “So what they say about you three must be true,” Max said, shaking his head. “Our mother was a witch, but we’re hunters now.” Alex felt Sam’s gaze dart onto her, and she met his look with raised eyebrows of her own. “She was, like, a good witch,” Max added after a moment. “Very Enya. It was the 90’s.” 

“Lots of crystals.” Alicia great n at her joke, and Alex forced a small, polite smile to match. “She taught me how to hunt witches. Uh, _bad_ witches.” 

“Sure, sure.” Sam nodded, and his chair creaked as he leaned forward. He gestured over to Max, matching the twin’s light attitude with a grin of his own. “And what did she teach you?” 

“Uh, mostly how to seduce men,” Max joked, teeth flashing as he spoke. 

Alicia’s head tipped back in a laugh. “She also taught him some magic, which is actually more useful.” She elbowed her brother in the ribs, and Max feigned a grunt. Alex let her eyes drift away as a flash of red plaid entered the room. A hunter, tall and broad, made his way through, the reddish hair of his beard parted by a scar that disappeared behind his ear. Their eyes met, and he gave her a quick nod before he slipped back out of sight behind another figure, thin and lanky in comparison. His chin was lifted, eyes wide as he scanned the room until their eyes met. She missed Max’s response, but Alicia’s laughter and a chastising, “Max!” drew her attention back to the twins. 

“Are you Sam Winchester?” The skinny man suddenly pushed his way into the conversation, and he dropped down onto the arm of the couch in front of Sam. A few pairs of eyes turned their way, and out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Alicia shift away from the intrusion with a disgruntled frown. “You are, right?” The man’s grin widened, and Alex’s wings fluttered. “Oh, this is nuts. Wow. Hi.” 

“Uh, hey.” Sam cleared his throat, looking down at the free hand that waved around. It had paused outwards, as if extended in a greeting, but it swept away before Sam could act. 

“Uh, Elvis. Kratz.” The hand darted back out, shaking Sam’s hand before turning on the angel. “That has to make you Alex, right? Wow.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he took a sip from his beer, the amber bottle slick with condensation and free of a label. “Look, so the thing is, I, uh, I got this friend down in the States, right, who knows this girl who knew your pal Garth.” 

“Garth?” Alex exchanged a look with Sam; his eyes had darkened, the faint light of unease flickering in their depths. “Yeah, we know Garth.” Her grace rankled, and she added, “Why? What about him?” 

The suspicion in her voice was lost on Elvis. “Well, you see my friend said that she said the Garth said that you were possessed by the devil. Like, _Lucifer._ ” The words had Alex shifting on the table; to her horror, Lucifer’s grace stirred within her, weak as it was, and she yanked her grace away — when had she reached down for its comfort? “The actual big, bad, devil, and you lived?” 

“Whoa.” Behind him, both twins recoiled. “Dude, you don’t just ask someone about something that messed up,” Alicia snapped, and Max added, just as sharply, “Seriously, back off.” 

Elvis’ head whipped around, his face growing blank at the sight of them before it flashed with indignation. “But it’s pretty amazing, huh?” 

Sam’s shifting had increased, and Alex reached out to grab Sam’s wrist. “Look.” Her voice shook, and the angel took a moment to steady it. “Elvis, right? If you want to talk devil —”

“Alex, no.” Sam’s free hand moved to cover hers, warm and slick with sweat, and he hesitated before he pried her fingers free. “N — it — it’s really not that amazing,” he told Elvis, and Alex pulled away, wings drawing in tight. “It — it just kind of is what is is. Um …” He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his hands off on his jeans. “I’m gonna get a — a beer.” He nodded towards the twins. “Yeah, you good?” Max shook his head, and Alicia half-lifted her own drink, and Sam nodded again. “Yeah? Good.” 

He hurried away, and Alex waited only a moment before she rushed after him. Her wings itched, aching to shake out to relieve the stress, but the room was too crowded, the hallway too narrow, and she had to sate herself by letting out a huff. “I can’t believe he just did that.” 

She looked up in time to see Sam shake her head, and she curled her wings forward as he stopped. The hallway was vacant, but the sound of life still came from the surrounding rooms. “Whatever you were going to tell him — don’t.” His voice dropped, and Alex cast a look around. “People aren’t going to be happy hearing that. I don’t want them learning anything about you and then trying …” 

Alex’s wings fell. “You don’t have to do that,” she murmured. “After what I’ve done … you shouldn’t have to cover for me.” She plucked at Lucifer’s grace, and it rose up within her, a faint and icy whisper. “I’ll take my consequences.” 

Sam’s lips pursed, and for a moment his face darkened; Alex couldn’t place the emotion, and then it was gone. He stepped aside to let a woman past, his eyes following her a second longer as he frowned. “I, uh, I should go find Dean,” he said. “Before he, you know, gets invited upstairs.” 

“I’ll keep out of your way.” Alex turned back the way she had come, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket. Elvis was no longer in sight, chased off by the twins, and Alex skirted the couch on her way out of the room. The entryway was surprisingly empty, and Alex ducked down a smaller hall as voices approached. The smell of food and the faint laughter of hunters from her right had her turning left, winding through the house until she found herself stepping out onto a darkened patio. _Luce?_ She circled down off of the brick and onto the grass, eyes turned up towards the sliver of moonlight. _You got out of town, right?_

She tugged on the thin thread of grace and it reacted, rising up and twisting itself into a knot before it fell away. _More or less_ , came the reply, thick with disdain. _I’ll be glad once I can fly again. These buses are …_

The grumble that followed was a mix of English and Enochian, leaving Alex rubbing at the bridge of her nose. _Well, if that’s the worst you’re having to deal with, I think you’re set,_ she snapped. _It’s going to be a day or two before I can come to you, thanks to the Winchesters. They'll try to tail me._

Lucifer’s grace crackled, a firm warning, and she quelled her frustration. His voice, however, held nothing but concern. _So they’re giving you trouble. Is Castiel there?_

 _No. And they’re not … they’re not doing anything. Not as long as Jody’s here, at least_. She glanced back towards the house, the hand that pinched her nose sliding around to rub at the back of her neck. _I’ll give this whole charade half an hour, then I’ll find a way out of here_. A pulse of worry pushed through her; that was assuming Sam and Dean would let her slip away. 

Voices approached from the darkness, and Alex dropped the prayer. Her wings arched upwards, defensive and wary, as two humans stepped from the shadows. “Enjoying the night?” The taller of the two, a dark-haired male, lifted his drink as he spoke. 

“Just getting some air,” Alex returned, folding her wings back down a she gave both of the strangers a nod. She turned her eyes away, grace poised as the two sets of eyes refused to waver. Reluctantly, she turned back, and her grace prickled as she frowned. “What?” 

The two exchanged looks, and the short onez a female with pale eyes that glowed silver in the moonlight, tossed her head. “Americans.” Her voice, high and clear, reminded Alex of wind chimes. “Always so prickly.” 

“Drinks are inside,” the other added, brandishing his bottle. “Sounds to me like you could use one. Or three.” 

His companion giggled, and Alex swallowed back a huff. “Sounds to me like a good idea,” she lied; the hint of mockery wasn’t missed by the two hunters, and she forced sincerity into her voice as she added, “Inside, you said?” 

The woman’s frown didn’t fade, but she was the first to answer. “Kitchen. Hang the first right and follow it straight until you hit your mark.” Her companion leaned down, an arm wrapped around her waist as he whispered something in her ear, and she giggled again, twisting to return a murmured comment. Alex took the opportunity to slip away, leaving the two alone in the night. 

Stepping back inside, she was immediately reminded of why she had left. The air was warm and stuffy, the thrumming music and jovial laughter filling her ears. A hunter pushed his way past, and Alex stepped out of the way. With a frown, she set off the other way, following the directions through the house until she reached the unusually small kitchen. Four hunters were crammed in there, gathered around the table; they all looked up as Alex entered, and she shoved her hands into her pockets under the intensity of their stares. Her own eyes found the cooler across the room. “Those the drinks?” 

“Sure is.” The man closest to the cooler grinned, flipping open the lid to pull out a bottle. “Hope you like it strong,” he said, popping off the lid and holding it out. “Home-brewed by yours truly. It was one of Asa’s favorites.” He waited for Alex to take the drink before he held out the hand to be shaken. “I’m Bucky. How did you know Asa?” 

“Uh, I didn’t. Not personally.” Alex sniffed the bottle before she took a sip; it bit at her tongue and the back of her throat, and she stifled a small grunt of surprise as she let the bitter ale slide down into her stomach. “I’m just here with some friends. Uh, I’m Alex, by the way.” 

“Alex. Not the Alex that rides with the Winchesters, by any chance.” Bucky jerked a thumb off towards the kitchen door opposite to the one Alex had entered through. “He was in here just a few minutes ago.”

“Um … yeah.” Alex’s feathers fluttered, eyes darting towards the door, but she kept her voice neutral even as she let her grace flick out in search of Dean: he wasn’t nearby. “That’s the one. You’ve heard of me.” 

The hunters around her exchanged looks, and Alex shifted at the grins that were thrown into the mix. “Just stories here and there,” Bucky said, motioning around the room with his drink. “They say you’re a fallen angel or something.” 

The casual tone did a poor job of hiding the interest that flashed in his eyes, and the air seemed to grow thicker as those around paused to listen. “Or something.” Alex’s grace wrapped around Lucifer’s, holding it tight, and she pulled it away with a sharp flick of her wing. “I’m not sure I’m much of anything anymore, not since Heaven closed its gates.” She let her eyes flicker around, momentarily caught off guard by the lack of surprise; apparently heaven’s state was common knowledge. “Do … do you guys deal with angels often?” 

Again, the hunters exchanged looks, but this time no one spoke. “Asa and I did, once,” Bucky finally said. “About two or so years ago. First time I’d seen one, haven’t caught wind of one since.” He nodded off towards the door, adding, “Asa killed it with its own weapon. He still has it in his study. Hell of a knife.” 

_Knife._ Alex’s grace twitched at the word, but the only reaction she allowed was a single blink. _Have they heard anything about Lucifer?_ That single question gnawed at the back of her mind, fighting to make its way out, but Alex held it back; opening that floodgate would be a mistake. Being viewed as a fallen angel was bad enough. She eyed Bucky over the rim of her bottle as she contemplated her choice.There was no telling what he would do if he found out about him as well. _Oh, you know what he would do,_ a small voice chastised. _They’d put that ‘knife’ of his right through your chest._ “Sorry — you said Dean went that way?” 

She waited only long enough for Bucky to nod before she stalked away, chin held high to hide the unease within her. Half an hour was too long. She needed to get out of here now.

Hands grabbed her arm the moment she stepped through the door, and Alex lashed out, ripping herself free as her fist sailed through the air. A hand caught it, strong as steel, and Alex glared up into the green eyes of Dean Winchester. “Going somewhere?” 

Alex yanked her arm from his grasp with a silent snarl. “Just looking for you,” she hissed, eyes sweeping up and down the hall. She could feel a dampness splattered on her sides, and she looked down to see that her drink had fallen during the skirmish, soaking into her shirt and jeans before spilling across the hardwood floor. “Thanks, Winchester. I just got that.” 

“Where the hell’d you go, huh?” One step carried Dean forward into her, hands pinning her back, and Alex’s wings crashed into the wall. Her eyes flashed, fingers finding Dean’s jacket as she grappled him. She dropped a fist into the crook of his arm, and it buckled. Dean jerked back. “I just talked with Jody, and she showed me a picture of her and Vince Vincente.” 

Alex’s head snapped back towards the kitchen, searching for any sign of prying ears. “I met him in town at a coffee shop,” she lied, chin lifted. “What’s your point?” 

Dean’s jaw ticked. “Come with me.” He stalked away, and Alex had little choice but to follow, her wings flittering as they moved down the hall. The sound of merriment faded, and it wasn’t long before Alex found herself standing in a darkly-paneled room, the only source of light from the crackling fireplace at the other end. Jody stood there, arms crossed, and Alex spun around as the door slammed shut. 

Sam stood there, his face obscured by the shadows, and Alex felt her heart drop. “What’s all this about?” 

“Lucifer?” Jody’s voice had Alex wincing, toes curling as she whipped around to face the sheriff. “You’ve been hanging out with _Lucifer_?” First anger, then disappointment spread across her face, and then it simply went blank. “Oh god. I posed for a photo with the devil.” 

“Wait, wait.” Alex spun back to face the Winchesters. “You think — you think Lucifer is possessing some rockstar?” 

She forced a laugh, one that faltered at the sight of Dean’s face. “You never asked where Cas was. He’s been working with Crowley to hunt you both down. They spoke with Tommy Royce in Cleveland _and_ with Wendy, who said that Vince magically showed up at her house with both you and Rowena in tow.” He stepped forward, and Alex arched her wings, swallowing back a snarl at the witch’s name. “They found Rowena, by the way. She said she banished you both to the bottom of the ocean.” 

Alex scoffed. “Not me. Just tossed me somewhere in Canada.” Her eyes darted over to Jody, and then to Sam, but the sheer weight of their disappointment had her moving on; somehow, facing Dean’s anger was easier than meeting their gaze. “What do you want from me?” Her voice had lost its edge, and her wings slumped. “I’m just trying to help. You actually want Lucifer out there unsupervised?” 

“No, we want Lucifer back in the Cage.” Sam stepped forward to his brother’s side, and Alex grimaced. “And you’re going to help us.” 

Lucifer’s grace roiled within her, rising up and, even though the thread was thin, it was able to fight its way to her head with little resistance. _Are you now?_ Lucifer clicked his tongue, and Alex stiffened as his grace captured her eyes with its orange glow. How had he heard Sam? “I … I’m not.” Alex’s feet carried her one step back, and she shoved his grace down as she drew hers up, weaving a wall between him and her mind. “I won’t help you. If you want to put him back, you’ll have to do it yourself.” 

“Sorry, but I’m still confused.” Jody broke into the tense silence that followed, and Alex locked her eyes onto the wall past the Winchesters' heads, refusing to meet either gaze. “Why is she protecting him?” More silence, and Alex felt the sheriff’s eyes bore into her skull. “I thought you and Castiel were — what did you call it? Mates? What happened to that?” 

“It didn’t work out.” Lucifer’s grace surged upwards, breaking through the feebly-constructed barrier, and Alex groaned in pain as she considered her next words carefully. “So, what’s your plan then? Take me out of here in chains and lock me up in the bunker’s dungeon? Again? Or are you going to let me walk out of here and keep your biggest problem under control?” 

The Winchesters exchanged looks, a conversation of lifted eyebrows and sidelong glances taking place before her eyes. The tight-lipped frown that marred Sam’s face said that the bunker’s dungeon had been in Dean’s cards, and the eldest Winchester was refusing to cave. “She has a point,” Sam finally said, and Dean’s jaw ticked. 

_Of course I do._ Alex resisted the urge to snap, choosing instead to shove her hands deep into her pockets. She could still feel Jody’s gaze; a glance out of the corner of her eye had her stomach dropping. The sheriff's face was stony, arms crossed, but even the clenched jaw couldn’t hide the horror and the disappointment; it was the latter that had Alex’s gut twisting, punching the air from her lungs. _Why couldn’t they understand?_ She tore her gaze away, lips parted, but no words came. _I’m not the bad guy_. “You should let me go.” To her surprise, her voice was steady. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone.” 

“Put these on.” Dean tossed something at her feet, and Alex’s eyes snapped up to his face. There was nothing but hard, unrelenting lines, and she turned to Sam, searching for any hint of sympathy. “Hey!” Dean snapped. “Do it, okay?” 

“Alex, please,” Sam added, and Alex crouched down, bidding her hands not to shake as she retrieved the warded handcuffs. 

Straightening up, she hesitated, turning the cold metal over in her hands. “I could fight my way out of here, you know.” Her finger traced the engraved sigils, and she let her eyes flicker over the brothers, watching the exchange of looks that passed. “You couldn’t stop me.” _I’m sorry, Luce. Don’t come after me._ His grace rose up even as the cuffs settled around her wrists, and then it was simply … gone. As the last of the teeth clicked into place, a wall crashed into her, wrestling her grace back beneath the confines of her skin. “There.” The cuffs dug into her wrists, and Alex held them up before she let her hands fall down. “A sign of good faith, okay? I’ve never not been on your side.” 

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, but it was Jody Mills who spoke next. “So … now what? You can’t mean to let her wander around the wake with _those_ on.”

“No.” Dean stalked back towards the door without a glance off towards Alex. “She’s staying in here until we’re ready to leave.” The door swung open, and then Dean was gone. Sam was close behind, sharing a sympathetic look with the bound angel before he too left the room. 

“Jody, wait.” Alex spoke up as the sheriff stepped towards the open door, and her feet carried her one step forward, voice cracking in her plea. “Let me explain.” Jody turned to meet her eyes, but all she offered was one small shake of her head, and then she left. The door swung closed, leaving Alex alone in the darkened room. 

**O** utside the walls of the room, the party continued, the merriment muffled by the heavy wooden doors. Alex had long since dropped down into one of the armchairs, hands tucked into her lap as she stared into the flickering flames. Every once and awhile, she could hear footsteps passing by, but she never called out, never once rose to check whether or not the doors were truly locked. She had long since given up her investigation of the handcuffs, her grace sore and bruised from the force of pushing against the cage that pinned her within her skin. Eventually she had retreated, attention turning within to where Lucifer’s grace had sat. _Is this getting through?_ Once again, she sent out her prayer. _Don’t come after me. I’m okay._ Her fingers curled in the hem of her shirt, clenching and unclenching as the fire licked at the ash-stained stone. Dammit. All that talk about taking care of herself — she had been so close to convincing him! — and here she was, bound and powered down. “Damn Winchesters.” The words crackled in her dry throat, and Alex sunk lower in her seat. _Damn Winchesters._

The door flew open, banging against its hinges, and, wings flaring, Alex leapt to her feet with a curse. Sam stood there, the darkness of the room and the backlight from the hall darkening his face so much that even the dying firelight couldn’t distinguish his features. Even still, Alex’s feet carried her one step back; the darkness couldn’t hide the tension in his broad, looming shoulders. _Something’s wrong._ “Is everything okay?” Alex tried to peer past the hunter, but nothing but hallway met her gaze. Her stomach sunk further with each passing moment of silence, and the angel forced her feet to carry her forward. “He … he didn’t …”

“Come on.” Sam stepped out of the doorway, pointing her through, and Alex reluctantly obeyed. _Oh, Luce, what did you do?_ “Randy’s dead.” 

“W-Who?” 

“One of Asa’s friends.” Sam started up a fast pace down the hall, and Alex cast a quick look around as she followed. Empty. “Someone gutted him and roped him to the parlor ceiling.” 

They emerged in the front entryway, and Alex’s frown deepened at the gathered crowd. She recognized a few faces: Jody, Loraine, the twin witches. Elvis and Bucky. Her eyes continued on before snapping back. Mary Winchester. “Where’s Dean?” 

“Why is everyone still here?” Sam snapped over her, and Alex’s eyes turned towards the door, tugging her handcuffed hands close to her stomach to try and hide them from the others. 

“He’s still outside.” Max spoke up, and with a wave of his hand, the wall lit up with red sigils, carved into the door. “And we can’t get out. The whole house has been warded, inside and out.” 

“It’s him.” Bucky’s voice rumbled in his throat, a low growl, and Alex tore her eyes away from the sigil, her wings pinned back in worry. “Jael. He’s a crossroads demon. And he hangs people. It’s his thing. Snaps their neck, slits their throat. He’s a real piece of work.” 

_A demon._ Alex’s eyes flickered shut, a relieved breath falling from her lips. “Hanging?” Sam’s word had her opening her eyes to find that his brow had furrowed, and he looked around the gathered group of hunters. “That’s how Asa died. You —”

“Who do you think killed him?” Bucky glared at the door, and two steps carried him between the twins. The door rattled under the force of his body, but it refused to budge. “Son of a bitch!” 

“Sam.” Alex tugged on the Winchester’s jacket, her voice urgent beneath Bucky’s litany of curses. “You have to take these off. If there’s a demon loose —” She jiggled the handcuffs for emphasis, and the metallic clink drew the attention of those around her. 

Faces darkened, most with suspicion, but the pensive frown on Mary’s lips held a level of knowledge that left Alex shifting uncomfortably. “You want to explain why exactly you’re handcuffed?” Loraine’s voice was cold enough to freeze the air, and Alex lifted her chin. “With warded ones, no less,” she added, sniffing in disdain. 

Alex bared her teeth, ready to growl, but Sam beat her to it. “That’s none of your business,” he snapped, and his voice dropped into a quieter tone as he glanced towards the door. “And … I can’t. Dean has the keys.” 

“And Dean’s … outside.” Alex’s wings rose, but she managed to grit her teeth and keep her frustration from creeping upwards. “Great. This all working out the way you imagined?” 

Her snide comment went unanswered, Sam’s attention already back onto Bucky. “You know this demon,” he stated, and Alex flared her nose to try and catch the scent of sulphur; it was faint, but definitely there. “How?” 

“Look.” Bucky tore his gaze away from Alex and reluctantly let it turn across the group, but his tone remained gruff. “Back in ’97, Asa was working this case in Yellow Knife, alright? A possession of a First Nations girl. Got real bad, real bloody. It was Jael,” he said, nodding towards Sam to answer his question. “Asa exorcised him, but not before Jael killed the girl. He made her tie a noose around her neck and he made Asa watch. But an exorcism, it ain’t like an angel blade.” 

“Yeah, it’s not permanent.” Sam’s words were accompanied by a glance down at Alex, a glance thr angel ignored. 

Bucky nodded. “Exactly. Right, so five years later, Jael — he came back, and he came for Asa. Asa, he was seeing this woman, right? And she had a kid.” 

“Marlene.” 

“Yeah, Marlene,” Bucky agreed with a glance at Loraine. “Jael got into her. It didn’t matter that he was killing people, he wanted Asa to know it was personal.” His lip curled in a snarl, and for a moment he paused, looking like he wanted to spit to show his rage, but a second glance at Loraine had him holding back. “He gets off on it.” 

“Yeah, and now he’s here. Possessing someone.” Sam felt at his pockets, hands dancing across his jacket as he frowned. “Where’s your angel blade?” 

“Shoved down my pants.” This time, Alex couldn’t help but snap. “You want it, you’re gonna have to fetch it yourself.” She yanked at the handcuffs, and the metal clanked. “Besides, unless you want to start killing people to see if they’re possessed, it’s not going to do us any good.” 

“She’s right. We need to figure out who’s possessed first.” Elvis jerked a thumb over his shoulder, directly towards Alicia. “She wasn’t in the room when Randy died.” 

Alicia’s head recoiled, eyes darkening. “I was getting a drink,” she snapped. 

“Dean wasn’t in the room either,” Max hurried to add. “Or her.” He pointed at Alex, and five sets of eyes turned onto her. 

She lifted her chained wrists with a huff. “I’m not exactly in any position to be killing anyone.” Her wings lifted, feathers ruffling with unexpressed frustration. “Besides, I’ve been locked up in some library for the past — I don’t know how long.” She jerked a head towards Sam and Jody in turn. “Ask one of them. They’re the ones who fucking put me in there when there was apparently a _demon on the loose_.” 

Sam’s hand came down across the back of her head. The gesture was light, little more than a chastising cuff, and Alex fell silent with a scoff. “She’s right," he said. "It wasn’t her. Handcuffs or no.” 

“Hell, demons haven’t been able to possess me since ’09,” Alex added — all it earned her was another smack, but she kept going. “Couldn’t have been Sam or Dean, either. They’re warded.” She lifted her grace to her eyes, trying to peer past the faces of her companions, and she dug her nails into the palm of her hand. “Damn handcuffs. I couldn’t see a demon if I tried.” 

The words were muttered only loud enough for Sam to hear, and he frowned. “We need holy water,” he announced. “Anyone packing?” The six hunters patted at their pockets and, one by one, they all shook their head. “Okay.” Sam’s frown deepened. “We can just make more.” 

“Uh, no we can’t, Mary reminded, glancing over at Elvis and Alicia. “The water’s off.” 

“Great. We can all just spit in a bucket —” One again came a cuff to her head, this one much harder, and Alex stuck her tongue out at Sam, jerking on her chains; until she got free, she wasn’t going to let this be her problem. A glance at Jody, the sheriff’s jaw clenched as the reality of their situation crashed down around her, had her amending that statement. _Or until someone touches her._

“She knew that.” Elvis pointed straight at Alicia. “You knew that about the pipes. You’re the one who told us.” 

“Oh, come on.” Alicia rolled her eyes, and her shoulders straightened as she turned to face Elvis. After a moment her gaze turned elsewhere, flickering around the room until it finally landed on Alex. “I didn’t realize we had an angel in the mix.That just makes this even more fun.” Her eyes darkened as red smoke rolled up over the irises, lasting only a moment before it disappeared. “We’re gonna have a good time tonight.” 

She flung her head back, jaws gaped, and the smoke escaped, billowing out into the air and twisting through the adjacent door. Wind whipped through the air, the sensation fading as it vanished up the fireplace. Alicia collapsed, barely caught in time by her brother before she hit the hardwood. “It’s gone.” Elvis’ words were quiet, breathless, and Alex felt Sam inhale sharply. 

“It’s not gone,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just not in Alicia anymore.” Sam paused, eyes sweeping the rooms before they turned towards the stairs. “Loraine, is there anyone else in the house?” 

Alex watched as Loraine Fox shuddered, but she kept her composure long enough to follow Sam’s gaze. “I don’t know.” Somehow, despite it all, she managed to sound scornful. “People have been coming and going all day.” 

Sam’s lips pursed, silent displeasure, but it was quick to disappear. “Okay, we’re gonna pair off. We’re gonna search the house — for people, not _demons._ ” That word was accompanied by a sharp look to everyone around him. “If you find a demon, yell. We’ll find you. And if your partner gets possessed … run. Mom, Alex, with me.” 

With a shrug, Alex followed Sam up the stairs, pausing at the landing with folded arms. Below her, the others had broken up into groups; Jody and Bucky had gone left, the twins to the right, and Elvis hung back with Loraine, who had taken a seat upon the stairs. “I’ll go this way.” Alex jerked a thumb over her shoulder.”We’ll cover more ground if we split up. You two go that way.” 

Mary looked up at Sam, her eyes narrowed in concern. “We shouldn’t split up.”

“Demons can’t touch me, not even with these.” Alex gestured to the handcuffs before she reached around, fumbling with the hem of her jacket until she managed to close her fingers around the handle of her weapon. “Here.” She removed her angel blade, twisting it around to hold it out, handle first. “You’ll need this more than I will.” Sam gave her a single nod before he snatched up the weapon and hurried away, and after a moment, Mary followed. 

**T** he hallway Alex had chosen was chalk-full of closed doors. Without her grace, she had to manually inspect each room — was this really how she had used to do things? The handcuffs only seemed to add insult to injury, and ten doors in, she was just about ready to give up and go find Sam. The doors stretched on: eventually Alex had just started knocking on the closed doors, pausing only long enough to listen for an answer before she continued through the never-ending home.

Up ahead, the hall curved, and Alex stepped around the corner to find herself standing in a high-ceiling living space. How big was this place? 

A scream broke through the air. Alex spun around towards the source — she had just come from that direction. Unless … 

She started down the hall at a lope, picking up speed when Sam and Mary came into sight. Their eyes met, and Alex gave a small shake of her head; it hadn’t been her. Four more steps forward took her to the edge of the hall, and she was able to look down into the front entryway. Loraine was still sitting on the stairs, her hands pressed against her mouth. A pair of legs lay in one of the doorways, torso hidden from sight, and Dean — 

Dean. Alex jumped down the stairs, wings lifted high above her head. “Dean!” She scrambled past Loraine to stand in front of the green-eyed hunter, hands extended. “Great — get these fucking things off of me.” 

“Yeah, not happening.” Dean pushed her out of the way, eyes seeking out his brother. “What’s going on? Who invited a demon to this party, huh?” 

“So you’ve seen him.” Sam stopped at Alex’s side, and the angel followed Dean’s gaze to the pair of legs she had seen. They belonged to Elvis; judging by the kink in his neck, his chin tucked behind his shoulder, the hunter was long dead. “How — we thought you were outside.” 

“Yeah, I got back in.” Dean gave a small, barely noticeable shake of his head. “It was a one-time deal. Won’t happen again.” Footsteps sounded in the halls, and Alex turned to watch the rest of the hunters file in, brought back together by Loraine’s scream. “Is this everyone?” 

Jody, Bucky. The twins. Alex barely finished the head count before the lights overhead flickered once, twice, and then went dead, plunging the house into darkness. She blinked rapidly, but her grace couldn’t pierce through the confines of the cuffs. There was a pause, and then small pinpoints of light emerged as lighters clicked to life. A moment later, a small flashlight and two phones joined the mix, chasing the deepest shadows away to the corner of the room. Alex reached out, fingers finding Dean’s jacket, and she tugged. Hard. The jolt had Dean rounding on her, and she blinked away the sudden glare as the lighter came to rest inches from her eyes. “Dean, you have to take these things off.” This time, she held the handcuffs up so the chains could glitter in the light he provided. “This demon’s playing cat and mouse with us. And the only way you stop Tom from tormenting Jerry is to let out Spike.” 

“I said it’s not happening.” Dean pushed her wrists away. “Because the minute I let you out, you’re bolting.” 

“Seems like an even trade for stopping a demon and saving the lives of everyone in this room.” Alex spoke loud enough for everyone to hear; not that their attention wasn’t already on the two of them. Dean’s jaw clenched, and Alex met the glare with one of her own. _Your move, Winchester_. 

“Dean, just let her go. It’s not worth it.” Sam stepped forward, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll find another way without her.” 

Dean’s eyes darkened another shade, but he caved, reaching into his pocket for the keys. “This demon knows you,” he said, scooping up her wrists. “So who the hell is he?” 

“Beats me. There’s a lot of demons in hell. I can’t keep track of all of them.” The handcuffs fell away, and Alex’s grace rose upwards, burning at her eyes. Lucifer’s grace followed a second later, exploding iin her chest, and the blue of her eyes ignited into red before she managed to quell it. “Thank you.” 

“That sort of feels like cheating, doesn’t it?” Jody spoke up from across the room, and Alex turned. The demon stood beside Bucky, arms crossed, and Alex rounded on her, wings flared out. “Ah.” Jael clicked her tongue — _Jody’s_ tongue. “One step closer and I’ll drag this meatsuit down with me.” For a second, the demon’s face flickered, a burnt shadow of agony that quickly faded. 

“Get out of her.” Alex curled her fist at her side, feathers fanning out to fill the air. “Or I’ll make you.” 

“Oh, you’ll make me?” Jael pouted, a scornful, mocking gesture. “You can’t rip me out of here without killing me first, can you? And last I heard, the two great kings of hell are still awol.” 

“Not awol. Just not in Hell.” Alex felt Sam and Dean on either side of her, and she lowered her wings to stretch them out further, a futile attempt to keep them back. _Please don’t do anything stupid_. “Tell you what, though. I’ll cut you a deal. Leave Jody alive, and I won’t rat you out to either of them.” Jael scoffed, and Alex narrowed her eyes, praying that her voice rasped just enough to give the impression of urgent sincerity. “I think they’re both stressed enough to not question why they get the pleasure of ripping into a wayward demon.” 

“I don’t think you understand how much time I put into this. How I planned this entire night out.” With a flick of Jael’s hands, the humans around her hit the ground, pinned there by the same force that threatened to crush the air from Alex’s lungs. She grit her teeth until the sensation began to stabilize, eyes narrowed as Jael stalked forward. “That is, until you and the _Winchesters_ showed up. As for the rest of you …” Her eyes turned down to the hunters around her. “I’ve been in your heads. I know all about you.” She paused beside Alicia and Max, and the pout returned. “For example, the twins. Too frightened to tell anyone that they actually came to say goodbye to their daddy. Or the grieving mother,” she added, head tipping as she turned towards Loraine, “who hated the fact that her son was a hunter so much she’d hide his gear, she’d sabotage his Jeep, anything to keep him from hunting.” Jael chuckled, and she circled around Loraine until she was standing at Alex’s side, leering over her shoulder. “And this meatsuit you all seem to care about —”

“Your grand plan was to reveal all of our deepest, darkest secrets?” Alex shrugged her away, flicking the demon with her wings as she sidestepped Sam’s legs; both Winchesters still lay prone at her feet. “That’s — wow. I thought Lucifer was devious, but this — this plan takes the cake.” She reached down to take the angel blade from Sam’s hands, making a show of brushing it off as she quickly constructed a wall in her mind; she didn’t need Lucifer hearing what was to come next. “I can get him up here, if you want. Show you how a real king gets things done.” The wall exploded, and Alex grimaced, barely holding back a grunt as Lucifer's grace spiraled through her mind. 

_Stop that._ The voice was little more than a deep growl, and Alex grit her teeth as she tucked her angel blade back into her jeans. Jael’s confidence had faltered, if only slightly, taking her grimace for a snarl. _Don’t make me come up there._

 _Please don’t_. That was the last thing she needed. “Well?” 

“You make it sound like the rumors are true.” Jael circled around her, a wolf on the prowl. “Why don’t you tell us your secret?” 

The demon momentarily disappeared from sight, but Alex refused to turn her head to follow her progression. “I’m an open book.” The angel spread out her hands, an open gesture, even as she prodded Sam with her grace, searching for the weakness of Jael’s hold. “Let Jody go, and I’ll tell you anything you want.” 

Jael chuckled and she, finishing her loop, returned to stand within Alex’s sight. “Oh, I couldn’t do that. Not without the big finale.” Beneath the demon's feet, Bucky grunted, and Alex watched as Jael ground her heel further into the hunter's fingers before she stepped away, flicking a finger upwards as she forced him to his knees. “Bucky. Brave, brave Bucky. I was there that night.” She swiped a hand through his hair, and Bucky bared his teeth in a silent snarl. “Tell these nice, stupid people what you did. Tell them what you took from me. Asa was _mine_.”

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus._ ” Sam pushed himself off of the ground, voice cracking under the strain. “ _Omnis_ —”

“No!” Jael flung out a hand, and Sam was swept from his feet. Alex heard his body hit the wall with a punched-out grunt, and she blew out a breath through her nose: an exorcism? Really?

“ _Omnis satanica potestas._ ” Dean picked up the chant, and in the next second, he was thrown the other way. Alex’s wings fluttered as he flew past, but she didn’t tear her eyes away from Jael. 

“Tell them!” The demon ripped Bucky’s head up by the root of the hair. The exorcism rose up around them, picked up by each hunter in turn, and Jael’s form began to quaver, resonating within Jody’s body as the words took hold. 

“I-I killed him!” The words were ripped from Bucky’s throat as the demon’s grip tightened. “I killed him. I killed Asa!” 

No sooner had the confession come then Jael threw back her head, forced out from Jody’s body and into the air. Red smoke spiraled around Alex’s head, and the air seemed to howl as the smoke dove away and crashed into the floor. The hardwood seemed to glow with a hellish light as the demon disappeared, and then … silence. 

“Bucky, what did you do?” Someone was speaking; Alex didn’t care who. Her feet were already rushing her forward to where Jody had collapsed at Bucky’s side. Everyone else was pushing themselves up, brushing off the dust, but Jody had yet to move. 

“She’s breathing.” The words were muttered to herself as Alex dropped down onto her knees. Her hands hovered, unsure where to rest, as her grace prickled at her fingertips. “She’s alive.” She felt something brush through her wings, and she glanced over to find Sam kneeling at her side. “She’s alive,” she repeated, and she cupped Jody’s cheek, grace trickling inwards to find the source of her unconsciousness. “Jael really did a number on her.” 

“But didn’t kill her, thanks to you.” Sam’s hand found her shoulder, and Alex let his touch linger before she reluctantly pulled away. 

“She’s fine. Just recovering. She’ll be okay by morning.” Alex rocked back onto her heels, glancing back towards the rest of the hunters. They had converged on Bucky, and her gaze slipped towards the front door, unguarded. “I should get going.” 

She bolted, slipping past Dean to wrench open the front door, but she didn’t make it past the porch before Sam followed, grabbing her wrist and stopping her short. “Wait.” The slamming of the front door made his single plea barely audible. “Don’t go yet. You should wait until morning. We can give you a ride.” 

Alex tugged, but Sam’s grip was unwavering. “I can’t.” Another sharp tug, and she was free. “If I stick around, Dean’s just going to slap those cuffs back on.” Her wings flittered, and she reached down in search of Lucifer’s grace. “Just don’t …” She retreated down to the driveway, pausing to look back. Sam stood on the steps, the porch light framing his hair in a halo around his head. “Just don’t come looking for us, Sam. It’s better for everyone that way.” 

She turned away and started off into the dark, leaving Sam standing alone in the night. He didn’t try to stop her; his silence almost — _almost_ — had Alex looking back, but she forced herself to push on. She could be back in the states before day broke. She reached down for Lucifer’s grace, pulling it up towards her chest. _I’m on my way._


	7. Rock Never Dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is an INK song

**Carpenteria, California**

**T** he high rolling skyline of Los Angeles lay below her, the array of colored lights hazy in the morning fog. A crisp breeze whistled through the trees, fresh from the mountains, rustling the stripped vanes of Alex’s broken wings. She slammed the door of her silver Honda shut, tossing the keys over her shoulder as she stepped away from the car. If she was lucky, she could reach the city proper by midday. Lucifer’s words rattled around in her brain even as the thin thread of his grace drew her onwards, growing stronger with each step. _Bellaqua Hotel._

That had to be where she should head for first, right? Alex’s eyes narrowed, and in that moment of contemplation, the gravel crackled under her feet, sending her skidding a foot down the steep path. Her wings flared out, and she reeled back to catch her balance even as her eyes darted down to the paved road. The hill hadn’t been ideal, but it had been the only place to stash a stolen Civic that hadn’t been in one of the shallow ditches. With a huff, Alex started back down towards the road, skirting a water-logged pothole. 

She could thumb her way downtown and start looking from there. 

The city was already disappearing from view, the rise of trees higher than the distant horizon, and with a sigh, Alex doubled her pace, skidding down the hill until she reached the four-lane road. The roar of cars was distant, but the road was wide enough that traffic had to pass by often enough. 

Her salvation had come in a Volkswagen EuroVan, the cloth seats packed tight with street evangelists. Their faces shown brightly — holy people, no doubt. Their leader, a dark-skinned man with a checkered shirt, had gushed over her at first, first concerned about her torn clothes and then about what exactly she had been doing alone on this road: she was lucky they had come upon her when they had. 

What followed in the next two hours of the ride was a barrage of questions. Was it her first time in the city? Yes. Was she here to see a friend? Yes again. His name? Vince. No, no last name. Was she a believer? That one had Alex stumbling, wings flittering in surprise. Yes, she had finally admitted; hard not to be when you’d seen God face to face less than two weeks ago — she had kept that last thought to herself. From there, she has hurried to ask her own questions, and soon the conversation shifted away from her and onto the long-winded history to the group’s ministry. 

By the time she was dropped off in front of the doors of The Bellaqua Hotel, the fog had dissipated and the chill in the air had disappeared, replaced with a warmth that bordered on discomfort. Lucifer’s grace had swelled within her, a ball of ice that sat against her diaphragm, and Alex took a moment to look up at the massive building that loomed before her. _Wow_. After years of living out of second-rate motels, it was hard to remember that buildings of this caliber existed. 

The lobby only enforced that thought with its high-vaulted ceilings and white checkered floors. So focused was Alex upon it, with its arched balconies and ionic-style columns, that she didn’t notice the front desk clerk until he cleared his throat. “Can I help you?” 

“Huh?” Alex turned, wings flicking as she looked the stranger up and down. “Oh, uh, I’m looking for someone. Vince Vincente,” she hurried to add. “He said this is where he was staying.” She tugged on Lucifer’s grace as she spoke, and it reacted, pushing back against her touch. “Can you look up his room number for me?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s hotel policy not to give out personal information —”

“Alex.” Lucifer’s voice came from behind her, and she turned. For the first time, the span of his crimson wings didn’t seem to fill the room they occupied, but the orange light only deepened their shimmering color. “Glad to see you’re here." He crossed the room to stand at her side, and only then did he seem to notice the concierge. “Is there a problem?” A hand snaked around Alex’s waist, drawing her near, and for a moment, the lobby disappeared beneath a blanket of crimson before the wings fell away. 

“Not at all.” The man’s face remained expressionless, only giving the arm that had wrapped itself around Alex a single glance before moving on. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

With that, he was gone, returning to his post beside the front desk, and Lucifer frowned at his turned back. “You’re here.” The statement was repeated, quieter this time. “Any problems?” 

“No.” Alex gently extracted herself from his grasp, mindful of the eyes around them. “He was just doing his job.” She let Lucifer take the lead towards the elevator, wings pinned tightly against her back until they were out of sight. “Sorry I’m late. The Winchesters —”

The icy wave of displeasure that crashed into her had her falling silent, and she watched as Lucifer’s shoulders drew back. “Delayed you. I know.” The elevator opened with a _ding_ , and he stepped inside. “Room’s this way.” 

With a frown, Alex followed; no sooner had the door closed than his hand found her wrist, and his wings carried them into the air. A second later, she found herself standing in a long hallway, the white walls broken by a line of equally white doors. “You can —” The words seemed to echo through the silence, and Alex bit her tongue before repeating herself quietly. “You can fly. When did that happen?” 

“Last night.” Her curiosity was brushed off, and Lucifer pushed himself through the nearest door. “Don’t worry about it. Come on in.” 

The hotel room was less of a room and more of … _rooms_. The short hallway led to an expansive living room with two other doors sprouting off toward her left. A balcony let in the sun, illuminating the mess that marred the pristine white furniture. “What the hell happened here?” Alex's eyes immediately locked on the lacy black bra that was slung across one of the white chairs, and her feathers bristled as she hooked a finger under the strap to hold it up. “Seems like you’ve been busy.” 

“I have.” For a brief moment, amusement flickered across Lucifer’s grace, quickly quelled. “Don’t mind the mess. The boys got a bit crazy last night.” 

Alex let the bra fall back onto the chair, arms folding across her chest as she looked the archangel up and down. “ ‘The boys’?” she repeated, scorn still lacing her tone. “What the hell have you been up to?” 

“Plenty, since you took your time getting here.” Lucifer moved past her, and Alex swallowed back her jealousy as she followed. 

“You told me to lose any tails,” she snapped. “Since last I checked, you weren’t strong enough to fly with me in tow. When did that change?” 

“Like I said, last night.” Lucifer dropped down onto the chair, brushing off the various clothing items until he could sit comfortably. One leg crossed over the other as he reclined, head propped up on a fist as he gestured for her to do the same. “Funny story, actually. A couple of kids tried summoning me.” His wing flicked, a dismissive gesture, and Alex settled herself down on the edge of the white couch. “They were nobodies, but somehow they’d managed to get their hands on one of my feathers. It had just enough juice to get this vessel back up and functioning.” 

“And you’ve been … celebrating.” Alex straightened the guitar that was haphazardly leaning against the armrest. “How’d they get one of your feathers?” 

“Didn’t ask. Little too late to find out now.” 

“Why —” Alex narrowed her eyes, and she probed at his grace as a frown spread across her features. “You killed them, don’t you?” Lucifer’s admission came in a shrug, and Alex leaned forward with a hissed, “Luce!” 

“What?” Lucifer’s eyes drifted past her, only returning when Alex snapped out her wings. “ _What_?”

“You can’t just —” Alex drew in a breath, deep and controlled; he was irritated with her. Irritated. With _her_. “You can’t just go around killing people,” she said, leaning back into the couch as she aimed for a calm composure. “This isn’t the Stone Age. You need to, you know, be a little more tactful. Civilized.” 

Lucifer leaned forward, fingertips pressed together in thought. “Yeah, you know, I’m not sure that would get my point across,” he finally said. 

“Sam and Dean and Cas and Crowley are all after you right now!” The facade shattered, and Lucifer’s eyebrows rose. “They’re convinced you’re a menace, and the only way to stop them and a million other hunters — or demons or angels or whatever! — is to show them you’re not going to destroy the world!” 

For a moment, Lucifer was silent, lost in thought. “They are persistent,” he finally murmured, wings unfolding to stretch lazily across the ground. “Like mosquitos. Swattable, but they always seem to come back at the most inconvenient times.” Another second passed, and this time when Lucifer spoke, it was to her directly. “Well then, maybe you’d like to see what I’ve been working on while you were gone.” His arms swept out, and Alex let her eyes briefly flicker across the room. 

“It looks like you’ve been partying.” She kicked at an empty bottle of whiskey, discarded beneath the coffee table. “I’ll be honest: if this is your long term plan, I’m out. I already went through this scene with Dean last year, and I can’t babysit another —”

A flick of Lucifer’s wing against her leg had her falling silent, watching as the archangel rose to his feet. “You know, your friend Jody got me thinking.” He turned to look out over the balcony, pausing as if waiting for Alex to prompt him to continue: she simply settled for a quizzical frown. “About this vessel,” he finished with a cross twitch of his wings. “He’s famous — people worship him.” 

“Not exactly —”

Lucifer continued over her. “And after I talked to those kids, I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m not as popular as I once was.” He turned back to her, his eyes darkening as he thought. “So I figured, why not just piggyback off of Vince’s following? He’s not exactly using it at the moment.” He circled back around to stand behind her, and Alex leaned back as cold hands brushed across the arch of her wings. “It took a bit of persuading, but I got the band back and signed on for a reunion tour.” 

More silence followed, and it took Alex a moment to realize he wanted her to speak. “Um …” She leaned forward to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think words can even begin to express how bad of an idea this is.” 

The air chilled, and the hands pulled away. “A bad idea.” Lucifer moved to stand in front of her, and after a moment, he dropped down onto the coffee table, his toes brushing against hers. “You’re the one who didn’t want the apocalypse. So I thought that, if I couldn’t rebuild the whole world in my image, I should settle for being worshipped by the masses and work my way up from there. One continent at a time.”

“I thought you hated people.” The words were deadpanned, spoken through a flat stare, one Lucifer didn’t quite seem to see. 

“Oh, I don’t like them, but if they can give me something I want … some things are more useful alive than not.” Lucifer leaned forward, and Alex had to shift back to keep space between their bodies. The glint in his eyes held the impression that there was a greater meaning to his words: he wasn't talking about _her_ , was he? “You’re not human anymore. Why should you care about them, flawed as they are?” His hand found her chin, nails digging into her pale skin. “You’re so much more than that now. You’re something … so much closer to perfection.” 

Alex reached up to pry his hand away, but the grip softened, and she opted simply to hold his wrist. “I’m more human than you might think.” She reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You shouldn’t —”

There was a knock at the door, and Alex jerked back: who knew they were here? Lucifer’s hand fell away, and his grace danced across hers, quick and calm. And then he was rising to his feet. “Come in.” He nudged Alex with a foot, wing flicking as he motioned her up as well, and Alex hung back as the door swung open. 

She didn’t recognize the three men that stepped in, but judging by the lack of surprise in the archangel beside her, their arrival had been expected. “Vince.” The taller of the three, a broad-shouldered, curly-haired blond, led the group. “Where’d you disappear off to last night? You missed a hell of a party.” 

“Just … out.” Lucifer shrugged, and he opened up his arms to invite Alex closer. “Alex, this is Tommy, Micky, and Neil.” His wing flicked towards each of the men in turn; the shaggy hair and aged faces were enough to confirm that they were the remaining members of Ladyheart.

“Another groupie?” Tommy’s frown was short-lived, but in that moment, a single emotion flashed through his eyes: distrust. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Alex merely shrugged, letting her eyes shift away for a brief second, and Tommy turned back to Lucifer. “The limo’s here. Rus is going to meet us at the studio to record some of our new songs.” 

Lucifer’s attention had already wavered, grace tying and untying loose knots around hers. “Maybe later.” He turned back into the hotel room, wings flicking in rapid succession as he took in the state of the mess. “How about I, uh, meet you there.” 

The looks the three exchanged were ones of tight-lipped frowns and darkened eyes. Tommy opened his mouth, but a second thought had him hesitating. “Make sure you do,” he finally said. “You’re the one who wanted this tour, Vince. Least you could do is show up to actually make something of it.” 

_Sorry, guys_. Alex mouthed the word to them as they left, and once the door was closed, she turned on Lucifer. “He’s got a point.” She kept her voice low until the sounds of their footsteps had faded, and she pushed past the archangel to cross over to the balcony. They were near the top floor; the people on the street below were little more than pinpricks, small moving shapes of colors. The wind whipped by, and Alex let her wings unfold, eyes closing as the breeze stirred the broken vanes. For a moment, she let the feeling wash over her; it was almost as if she could fly again — the facade shattered, broken under the weight of reality, and she folded her wings back. “Being in a band isn’t all parties and mosh pits," she added, more sharply than intended. "You have to work for it.” 

“Oh, I plan on it.” When Alex turned around, Lucifer was back to lounging on the couch, wings splayed out over the back as he fingered at the guitar. “But I get the feeling you and I have different ideas on the work that needs to get done.” He picked at the strings, and a discordant note rang out through the air, a sound as unnerving as the smile that twisted his lips. 

Alex stepped back inside, and she dropped down into the chair with a frown. “You want to be a rockstar. If you’re not thinking about going to rehearsal … I’m not sure I want to hear your idea of work.” She held out her hand, and after a second Lucifer passed her the guitar. Alex ran her finger along the frets, feeling the ridges of the metal strings as she slowly picked out the first few bars of Metallica’s _Halo on Fire._ “You’ve got to have the basics locked up in that head somewhere.” 

The guitar was snatched away, and the archangel’s fingers danced across the fret as he played the opening tab to _Bloody Messiah_. A moment later, he set the guitar away with a bored wave of his hand. “I was thinking of focusing on something a little more important,” he said, leaning back into the cushions. “Like how am I supposed to dress? What’s going to grab people’s attention and make them think something like, oh, I don’t know, ’I should definitely give that guy my heart and soul’?”

“You want people to worship you, do your damn job.” Alex tossed one of the bras his way as she pushed herself to her feet. Halfway through its arc, the air dropped ten degrees as Lucifer’s grace twisted out, a mesh of woven threads, and then the bra was simply gone. The rest of the debris was too, leaving the white room spotless. “Unless you want to try some Jedi mind-trick — that was a joke,” she jumped to add when Lucifer’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You can’t go around hypnotizing people!” 

“Don’t worry.” The thoughtfulness faded, and Lucifer beckoned her closer with a crooked finger. “What’s true devotion if it doesn’t come from the heart?” When Alex stayed away, he frowned and rose to his feet. “You took four days to get here, and yet you’re still wearing the same clothes I last saw you in.” One step took him toe-to-toe with Alex, and the angel found her heels bumping against the chair. “Look at this.” His fingers curled in her shirt, torn and muddy, and Alex’s wings curled forward to try and hide from his scrutiny. “How am I supposed to take you anywhere? I've got a reputation now, you know.”

“Take me somewhere? Where would —”

She didn’t even have the chance to finish before she was being tugged forward by the jacket. “If you’re going to play the groupie, you’ll need to look the part.” Lucifer wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest, and before Alex had the opportunity to even protest, they were gone. 

**T** he unwavering LA sun beat down upon Alex’s shoulders, its heat trapped within the confines of her new leather jacket. Lucifer’s concept of ‘purchasing’ clothes had proven dubious at best; a single touch to the shopkeeper’s cheek, and she had let the two of them simply walk out the doors. _At least he didn’t kill her._ That thought soothed some of Alex’s discomfort, and she cast a glance up at the archangel. He was walking at her side, hand in her hand; despite her initial attempt at pulling away, he had persisted, and now their fingers were locked together as he led the way down the busy street. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have just gone to get my things.” The argument was old, but Alex brought it up once again, a grumble in the back of her throat. “I look ridiculous. I don’t wear leather.” 

The words didn’t go unnoticed, and fingers squeezed her hand as Lucifer sighed. “If Crowley and Castiel have found Rowena, then they know where the cabin — where _my_ cabin — is.” Impatience crept into his tone, and the archangel took a moment to regain control. “Clothes are everywhere. What’s the point in walking into a trap for them?” 

“Because they’re _my_ clothes.” Alex kicked at a cup whose contents had been strewn across the sidewalk, and it skittered towards the drain. “Okay, so you got me a new outfit. What’s up next, Nickelback?” 

“Vince!” A woman’s shout had Alex turning, and her wings rose up to cover her face at the sight of a ENG camera. Great. "Vince Vincente.” The woman who had spoken stood before it, a handheld reporter’s mic in her hands. “Glad we could catch you. Do you have a moment to talk about your reunion tour?” 

Lucifer’s grace rippled, and his eyes glinted in pleasure as he grinned. “Of course. I always have time for my fans.” 

“Wonderful.” The woman brushed her hair back behind her ear, and she exchanged a quick glance and a nod with the cameraman behind her before she turned back to Lucifer. “We’re here in front of Death Siren Records with Vince Vincente, lead vocalist for Ladyheart. Vince, the last time you and your team toured together was in 1998. What’s it like to be back in the game?” 

She tilted the microphone towards him, and Lucifer’s feathers rustled as he took a moment to think. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s great having the band back together,” he finally lied, hand tightening in a quick squeeze, and Alex pivoted, turning her face away from the camera. “In the studio, feeling pumped. Haven’t felt this fired up in ages.” 

“A lot of people say your style of rock could never make a comeback in today’s landscape,” she heard the reporter continue. “What do you say to them?” 

Lucifer chuckled, and his grip loosened enough for Alex to rip herself free. “I say go to hell.” A small crowd had gathered, and Alex wove her way through it, wings pulled in tight as she hurried to get out of sight. Cameras. The last thing she needed was her face on tv. A woman passing on the street met Alex's eyes; her irises flashed, pupils narrowing into a thin line. Alex spun around, but the creature had already vanished among the masses. 

_Where’d you go, little one?_ Lucifer’s voice thrummed through her mind, and Alex slowed her pace as his grace beckoned her back. She pressed herself up against the white building she had been skirting, eyeing the black lettering mounted on the side. Death Siren Records. The name sounded familiar, and she slunk closer to the doors to try and peer past the dark tinting. Lucifer’s — _Vince’s_ , she corrected — bandmates were in there. Maybe she could find a way to drag him in after this was all over. Lucifer’s grace flicked, and she reluctantly glanced back in his direction. _I’m nearby. Just … getting away from the cameras._ She frowned toward the doors, adding, _I’ll meet you inside when you’re done_.

She ducked into the studio without another word. A gust of air conditioning met her as she stepped into the bright lobby, where the words DEATH SIREN were written in a font reminiscent of street graffiti against a black accent wall. The surrounding walls were white, funneling the eye’s attention onto the logo. A pair of black leather chairs sat beneath it, and Alex slunk over to take a seat. 

“Can I … help you?” A voice came from behind her, and Alex twisted to see a man standing in one of the hallways, a clipboard in his hands. “If you have an appointment —”

“Oh, uh, I don’t.” Alex brushed her hands off on her ripped jeans, and her jacket squeaked against the chairs. “Um … I’m actually with Vince Vincente. He’s outside finishing up an interview.” She flicked a wing off towards the door, following the gesture up with a pointed finger. “He’ll be done in the next couple minutes.” She leaned forward, adding, “Uh, are the other guys still here? Tommy and Micky and uh … the other one?” 

_Neil,_ Lucifer corrected, and Alex pushed him away with a sharp, _Get out of my head_.

“Neil,” the man added aloud, and Alex merely grunted. “Might still be upstairs in studio seven. Vince can take you up there when he gets in.” 

“Perfect.” Alex waved him away, and she sunk back into the chair. The room smelled of disinfectant, and she expelled air through her nose as she readjusted in her seat, kicking off her muddied shoes and drawing her legs up underneath her. The light on her phone was on — a text from Sam, who she had been ignoring for days. For a moment, she played with the power button, letting the screen flicker on and off before she finally swiped the notification away. There was no point in reading it; if it was anything like the odd hundred or so texts he had already sent her way, it contained nothing but pleas and attempts at reason. 

“Whew!” The door flew open and Lucifer stepped in, wings spread almost as wide as his grin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” His eyes swept across the room, and Alex uncurled from the chair as his gaze found her. “What’s got you in a twist, hm? Last time I remember you running like that, half of hell was on your tail.” 

“I don’t like cameras.” Alex tugged on her shoes and rose up, wings curling over her shoulders to invite him closer. “You might not understand this since you can’t seem to keep a vessel for more than a week, but I’ve been wearing this body for the past twenty-some years. There’s a cop in every state that knows my face. I’m sure I’ve been on America’s Most Wanted at least twice. I can’t just walk around Hollywood in broad daylight.”

“You’re afraid of some cops?” Lucifer’s hand cupped her cheek, tilting her chin up to look him in the eyes. “Who exactly do you think I am?”

“Vince Vincente.” The man from before had returned, his clipboard now replaced with a small stack of papers. “Studio seven. Angela's waiting for you.” 

The smile on Lucifer's face faded, replaced with an irritated frown. “Thanks.” He pulled Alex after him, and she had no choice but to follow, her wrist firmly grasped in his fingers. Lucifer waited until they had stepped out of sight before he dropped her hand, and Alex fell in step at his side as they entered the stairwell and started up to the second floor. “So they're all upstairs, hm? You had to pick this building to step into, didn’t you?” 

“You just had to go and possess that vessel, didn’t you?” The dry quip was rewarded by a flutter of crimson wings, and the air was knocked from her lungs as she was spun into the nearest wall, a forearm pressed against her sternum. Lucifer’s face was mere inches from hers, eyes narrowed, but beneath the exterior, amusement danced along his grace. She pushed against his hold, but despite the lack of pressure, it was like moving a wall. Not an inch given to wiggle free. “Didn’t you?” 

“It was cute the first time.” Lucifer’s arm moved, releasing her chest, but before Alex could catch her breath, the hand slid around to the back of her neck. “But don’t push your luck.” The words had heat flushing through Alex’s cheeks, and she turned her head to hide a grin as the archangel stepped away, letting the air, hot in comparison to the touch of his skin, rush between them. “Don’t fall behind.” 

Alex had to dart after him, swiping her fingers through her hair as they exited the stairwell and turned down a hall. “Vince.” A woman stepped out from one of the doors at the far end, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to show up.” Her eyes slipped past him and onto Alex, and for a brief second, her face went blank. “This must be the friend Tommy was talking about. You know, we really don’t let non-band members into the studio —”

“She sticks with me.” Vince pushed his way past the woman, and Alex followed with an apologetic shrug. The room they had stepped into was a sound booth, and Alex circled around to stand beside one of the black leather chairs that were placed against the far wall. Through the window, she could see into the recording studio, the stage empty and dim. “What do you want?”

The woman stepped into the room, her perfect face marred in a frown at Lucifer’s dismissive tone. “Angela Crawford. Vince’s manager,” she introduced, and Alex caught sight of Lucifer rolling his eyes as Angela stepped past him. “You just missed the others by about ten minutes, but you and I do need to talk.” She leaned up against the sound panel, her hands carefully splayed along the edges as she looked Lucifer up and down. “Tommy and the others are having a small get together at the Perch later tonight. Pam Anderson is going to be there — you remember Pam, right?” The question was accompanied with a flickering glance towards Alex, a look that the angel did her best to ignore. “I’m not trying to give you any suggestions, but a reunion tour coupled with rumors of a rekindling of old flames would push this thing into overdrive.” 

Lucifer dropped down into one of the seats, eyes darkening thoughtfully as he slouched, legs spread. Alex perched herself on the edge of the other chair, wings curled around her as she studied the empty stage behind Angela. “I’m listening,” Lucifer finally said, and he rested his cheek against his fist. 

Angela’s grin widened. “Eight o’clock, red dress. You can’t miss her.” The smile faltered as she once again looked towards Alex. “Sorry, it’s invite only.”

“She stays with me.” Lucifer’s voice was low, bordering on a growl, and his wings, unseen, rose up to brush against Alex. “The Perch, you said. We’ll be there.” He waved Alex after him as he rose, pausing in the doorway as Alex hesitated. 

Angela had put her hand out to stop her, forcing the angel to pull up short with a frustrated snort. “I’m only trying to help you, Vince,” she warned. “You want publicity, and that’s what I’m offering. Make sure you come back here tomorrow,” she added in a firmer tone. “We need to talk about the first show.” 

Lucifer’s only response was to flash a single thumbs up, and then he was gone. Alex brushed Angela aside, muttering out something that could have been construed as an apology before she too followed Lucifer out the door. 

**T** he bar — The Perch, Angela had called it — was a dimly lit mix of gleaming wooden tables and leather booths. The pounding of the bass drowned out the slow thump of Lucifer’s heart, a steady measure of calm, and Alex had to push her grace up against his vessel to feel it again. The action was quickly followed by her pushing herself closer as a man moved past, two drinks balanced in his hands. “This is dumb.” Her voice was lost beneath the music, and she momentarily leaned her head against Lucifer’s shoulder. “I saw a monster earlier. We could be out hunting it down, not doing … this.” 

Lucifer chuckled, and one wing curled around her shoulder, keeping her near. “Come on, _mahoath._ Live a little.” The wing shifted downwards so Alex could see, but a hand moved up to take its place, wrapping around her waist and pulling her close as his lips brushed across her ear. “I’ve been in that little melon of yours. Isn’t this what you always wanted? A life outside of hunting. Just you, me, and maybe a big house out on a cliff. You can stay home, maybe watch the kids, and I’ll, you know, rule heaven, hell, and everything in between.” 

Alex lifted her chin to look him in the eyes, head snapping back to find his face too close for comfort. “K-Kids?” Her brow furrowed as she looked away, and she let her wings drop as the hand around her waist curled beneath her jacket to toy with the hem of her shirt.

The action was accompanied by a grin. “Who knows. At this point, I’m just playing it all by ear.” Lucifer tugged on her shirt, a sharp, teasing motion. “I thought I hit it off pretty well with Ashiel, after all. But,” he said, and the hand shifted to rest against her hip, the brush of his skin cold against hers, “first things first. Let’s get this show on the road.” 

Tommy emerged from the crowd, a beer in his hand. His eyes, having scanned the room, landed on them, and Alex watched as a quizzical frown slid onto his face. “Didn’t think you’d make it.” That was addressed to Lucifer, his gaze turning to the archangel halfway through. “Angela couldn’t get a hold of you this morning.” 

“We found each other later.” Lucifer pulled free from Alex’s waist, and he clapped his hands together as he looked around. “Let’s get the party started, huh? Who’s here?” 

“A lot of the local crowd. Angela wanted to keep this public, you know, so the word gets out there.” Tommy’s attention strayed back to Alex, and this time, the frown returned tenfold. “Look Vince, if you wanna keep your shadow around in private, fine. But Angie leaked a tip that you and Pam were both gonna be here tonight. If you want to play her game, you gotta lose the girl. You know that.” Tommy shifted closer, and his voice dropped into a murmur. “You keep her around too long, people are gonna start to wonder.” 

Lucifer’s eyes darkened, growing distant as he thought. Even when Tommy walked away, the archangel’s expression didn’t change. “Luce?” Alex circled around to stand in front of him; when there was no response, she put a hand on his chest. “He’s got a point. The less publicity I get, the better I —”

“No.” Lucifer’s hand came up to cover hers, and Alex hummed at the scrape of his nails against her knuckles. “I shouldn't let you out of my sight.” The thought was growled, and it took Alex a moment to realize that the sound wasn’t coming from his voice, but rather from his grace, twisting alongside the spoken words. “You’re cute, you know that?” The hand over hers moved to the base of her neck, and Alex gasped as he yanked her hair back, baring her throat. “But you’re weak.” His cold breath ghosted against her cheek, and Alex grunted as his grip tightened. “I let you go for five minutes, and the Winchesters have tied your hands in knots. And to think you almost had me convinced that you could take care of yourself." 

His grip loosened just enough so Alex could tip her head forward. “I can —”

“Shh.” Lucifer’s fingers moved again, and Alex winced as they brushed across her shoulder; Castiel’s grace leapt up at the touch, burning blue at the junction where their graces had knit together. “I should take you away from here.” Again, his voice dropped to a murmur, so much so that Alex had to lean closer to hear over the music. “Rip his grace out of you and —” 

“Vince Vincente.” A soft, effeminate voice came from over the archangel’s shoulders, and Lucifer's touch lingered a second longer before he pulled away. A flick of his wing across Alex’s chest was enough to send her retreating several steps, swallowing back a disgruntled frown. She caught a glimpse of the woman as Lucifer turned: the red dress, slim and clinging to all the right curves, gave her away as Vince’s arranged date. “Whoever said the years don’t age gracefully...”

The rest of her line was lost beneath the clamor as Alex stepped away, hands shoved deep into her pockets. “Can’t take care of myself my ass,” she muttered. “Try and rip out his grace and I’ll rip out your teeth.” The threat was hollow, little more than an attempt at regaining his attention, but Lucifer’s guard had dropped, and with a sigh, Alex reached down for Castiel’s grace; for a moment, she let herself lean into the warmth of his essence. She could see him in the back of her mind, and a single image flashed across her eyes before he rose up in turn, sharp and insistent. Within a moment, Lucifer’s grace crashed through her system, a shower of stinging ice that punched a dry yelp from her throat. 

A few eyes turned in her direction, and Alex ducked her head, her cheeks burning. She could feel Lucifer’s grace within her, pulsing and seething, but she did her best to brush the anger away. A glance over her shoulder showed Lucifer already settling into one of the tables, one arm slung over the back of the chair. The woman in the red dress was seating herself across from him. Her lips were moving, quirked into a plump smile, but Alex found herself frowning when her blue eyes darted off to land on her. The look lasted only a moment, but the woman’s head tilted as she spoke. A question. Lucifer’s response was a flick of his hand, dismissive and disregarding, and Alex turned away with a sulking scowl. Lucifer’s grace had returned to barricading Castiel, and his frigid rebuke had left her brain aching.

A flash of golden eyes caught her attention and Alex turned. Was that —

A man brushed past her, a drink balanced in each hand, and Alex ducked out of the way to avoid any sharp words. When she turned back, the eyes were gone. Darkness saturated the back third of the bar, and it took Alex a second for her eyes to adjust before the booths came into focus. She recognized a familiar face: Tommy, the band's drummer. He was seated in the corner, sipping on his beer as he watched the two other men who sat across from them. It took Alex a moment before she recognized them as well. “Hey, it’s Micky and, uh, Neil, right?” She stopped in front of their table, wings flittering as she looked between the three musicians. A grim shadow had settled over the booth as three pairs of eyes turned onto her, and Alex scrubbed at her arm, gaze dropping towards the ground under their stares. “Can I sit down?” 

There was a moment of silence, and Alex almost turned away before Tommy straightened up in his seat. “Can we have another round?” He spoke over her shoulder, and Alex glanced back to find a raven-haired waitress standing there. She almost missed the gesture that went with the order: a show of four fingers. The waitress disappeared back into the crowd, and Tommy shook his head. “Knock yourself out.” 

“Thanks.” Alex dropped down next to him, and she tucked her hands between her knees as she studied the three. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. And, uh, sorry that we didn’t make it to the studio in time. I lost all of my stuff on the trip in and needed some new clothes.” She tugged on the zipper of her leather jacket to emphasize her words, pretending to busy herself with the sleeve as the three exchanged looks. 

“So, you’re not from around here.” 

“No, I’m from …” Alex hesitated, mouth half open. “The … midwest. I met Vince in” — where had that been? — “Ohio not too long ago.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tommy’s jaw tighten, and she quickly cleared her throat. “He, uh, told me to meet him here, so I drove out.” 

Across from her, Neil finished the last of his drink with a shake of his head. “Maybe we’ve been away from Vince longer than we thought.” His voice was low, rumbling, and full of scorn. “He’s always been a lady’s man, but you — he’s old enough to be your grandfather.” 

Alex snorted, and she hid it by ducking her head. _I don’t think you know how old he truly is_. “It’s not like what you think.” She reached out with her grace, searching for Lucifer, but the archangel kept her at bay. “There’s nothing going on between me and Vince — Vince and I.” She fell silent as the waitress returned, four beers balanced on a silver tray. They were distributed with a bright smile, and Alex murmured out her thanks. She watched as the three around her shared glances, an even mix of skepticism and vexation, and Alex did her best to keep her face plain. 

“So … you’re just friends.” Cynicism deepened Tommy’s voice, and Micky leaned over to whisper something in Neil’s ear — Alex didn’t bother to listen in. 

“Yeah.” Alex swallowed down her drink, feathers curling at the bitter, clove-like taste that sat above the burn of alcohol. Her eyes flickered back towards Lucifer, but the archangel was obscured from view; only the tip of a crimson wing was visible. “Just friends.” 

“Aaron!” Across from her, Neil leaned forward, a hand raised towards the crowd, and Alex pressed herself into the booth to avoid his splayed fingers. “Over here.” 

Alex ducked out from the booth, grabbing her drink and muttering a quiet “see ya later,” to the band. _That could have been much worse_. They didn’t call her back or even glance her way, and Alex was able to weave her way through the crowd, unable to hold back a small, fleeting grin at her own quick wit. She had handled that pretty well, all things considering. The touch of awkward humility always sold it. The smile was quick to fade. She could see Lucifer up ahead; he was leaning forward, a drink in one hand. His back was to her, but the smile on Pam’s face made it clear he wore a similar grin. 

Lucifer had felt her presence; his wings flittered in her direction, but Alex’s feet were already carrying her towards the back door. She paused by the wall, just long enough to take a few gulps of her beer, before she stepped out into the night. 

The air hadn’t yet gained its midnight chill, still warm from the bright sun, but even still, Alex drew her wings in tight. Castiel’s grace was starting to squirm again, itching against Lucifer’s barricade, and Alex looked up and down the alleyway as she brought the single image she had seen through Castiel’s eyes back into her mind. The look hadn’t been much, but there was something familiar about the distant, darkened skyline. 

“Going somewhere?” Lucifer’s voice sounded from behind her, a low rumble, and Alex’s wings unfolded. “We only just got here.” 

His hand found her shoulder, and a gentle tug had her turning. “What’s the point in staying? I don’t know anyone.” She moved to shrug off his touch, but his face was closer than she had anticipated, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath, mingling with her own. “I should just head back to the hotel. This isn’t really my scene.” 

“Alone?” Lucifer cupped her cheek, and Alex felt his grace shift within him, rising up until the edges of his irises glowed in the moonlight. “This is a big city, _enay._ " _Angel_. "Something as small as you is bound to get lost.” His cold fingers danced across her skin, and after a moment he added, “Perhaps I should come with.” 

The glint in his eyes took the innocence out of his words, and Alex’s broken feathers dragged down his jacket as she extracted herself from his grip. “I think someone my size can navigate four blocks, _iaidaenay,_ ” she said, jaw setting as she held Lucifer’s stare. _Archangel_. “After all, you’ve got a date you can’t just leave high and dry, right?” 

Lucifer’s smile was thin, and he stepped away with a quiet chuckle. "Don't delay," he warned. "You want to prove to me that you're capable without my supervision? Go ahead." He nodded towards the bustling street, and Alex squared her jaw as she glanced behind her. “Call me if you run into trouble,” she heard him say, his voice a rumbling purr. “I’ll always come for you.” 

“You won’t have to.” Alex’s wings lifted, arches curling as she scowled. The quirk of Lucifer’s lips — amusement — only fueled the fire that jealousy had started, and Alex stalked away, feathers rustling as she shook out her wings. _I’m walking back to the hotel, not walking through hell._

She stepped out of the alleyway, hands carding through her hair as she forced the frustration from her face. The sidewalk was packed, people walking shoulder to shoulder, and Alex ducked into an open patch, wings drawing in as she looked around. Which way was it?

It had to be left. The angel kept her head low as she swam upstream, dodging elbows and feet. The further she got from The Perch, the more her anger faded from a flame into smoldering ash. Why did he always push her like that? It was like he knew every button of hers to press, and the way he’d grin — he found it amusing! That thought alone had her scowling, and a pair of women gave her a wide berth as they passed. _But you like it._ The little voice in her head sounded like Lucifer, so much so that she dug down to make sure it hadn’t originated in his grace. _That’s why you goad him on, isn’t it?_

A shoulder bumped into hers, and Alex turned to apologize, but the words died in her throat. In that brief second where the stranger’s face was visible — even through the night, broken by the flashing neon lights — Alex could tell that something was wrong. The woman had barely paused, leaving Alex standing, frozen, on the sidewalk. What was that? Her grace rose up, twisting into knots as she stared into the crowd. Not human, obviously, but in that brief moment of contact, it had been impossible to tell. 

Her feet carried her forward on their own accord, back in the direction of The Perch. _What was it?_ The woman was nowhere in sight, swallowed up by the crowds, but Alex pushed on. _This is a bad idea_. That voice was back, soft and chiding, and it was enough to slow her step. It was a bad idea. _But a monster's a monster. And it'll show him just how capable you are_. She skirted the bar as she passed, clinging close to the street in case she was spotted by a familiar face, and — there. It had to be the same person; how many blue-haired women in black leather could there be?

Alex darted across the street — barely missing a Corvette that sped by on her left — and ducked down the side road. The woman was already near the end, turning the corner without a glance back, and Alex followed. She moved cautiously, canvas shoes hugging the shadows. Here, the neon signs were less prevalent, leaving swathes of pavement to be swallowed up by the night. A few passersby lingered, but she paid them no attention, and them her. 

The road the woman had ducked down was less of a street and more of an alleyway. The only lights came from single yellow bulbs hung above steel doors, and at the end, a chain link fence rose up from behind a pair of dumpsters. The woman was still there — facing her. Alex drew herself up at the sight of the yellow eyes. _Werewolf._ “What’s an angel like you doing in a city like this?” The woman’s voice was sweet, a thick, dark honey, but the glint in her golden eyes left no illusions. “Mitch said that your type wasn’t allowed past the outer suburbs.” 

“Mitch?” Alex’s grace twisted against her angel blade. “I don’t know where he got that idea, but I just drove in on the highway. Seems to me like if there was a ban on angels, that’d be a pretty good place to enforce it.” She let her eyes turn up towards the half-moon, adding, “Pure-blood?” 

“Once-removed.” The words were spoken as fangs flashed, yellow irises constricting in a brief moment of diminished control. “Why? Are you some sort of angelic Constantine or something?”

Alex didn’t bother to hide her smile; the darkness would do that for her. “Something like that. At least, I used to be.” Her weapon dropped into her hands, and she stepped forward into a small patch of moonlight. 

For the first time, surprise danced in the wolf’s eyes. “You haven’t heard the news, have you? I’m not surprised, with your kind just sitting in heaven with their heads in their asses, but down here, the King of LA proposed a truce. We each fill our niche, and as long as we don’t get too greedy, we’re left alone. No bounties, no hunters, no one out to make a cheap buck.” The fangs retreated, sliding back behind blue-painted lips, even as her gaze dropped onto Alex’s weapon. “Kill me,” she warned, “and you’ll start a war.” 

Lucifer’s grace twisted within her, and Alex shoved it down before it could reach her eyes. If she was going to do this, it had to be now. “I’ll start a war without you.” 

The quip didn’t make much sense but, as she glided forward, that moment of inspired confusion was all she needed to strike. She drove the heel of her palm in the werewolf’s forehead, sending her stumbling back into the fence. She followed in one swift step, and her momentum buried the angel blade deep into flesh. The metal cut through the outer clothing like butter, but the scrape of the sides against the metal zipper set Alex’s teeth on edge. Her grace spiraled down the lines of the blade, and the werewolf’s face exploded into tongues of light that charred the surrounding skin. 

The monster collapsed as Alex stepped back, weapon sliding free from the chest with a wet sound. Lucifer’s grace had resettled itself, but there were no promises that it would remain that way for long. Best to get back to the hotel —

She turned to go, but a figure in the alleyway blocked her escape. Tall and dark, with a frame hidden by a bulky black trench coat — for a moment, the silhouette was so much like Crowley’s that it had Alex jumping back. 

It was a demon, but it wasn’t Crowley. As Alex’s grace rose up, his face became clear. Blonde hair, sharp nose. For a moment, the face flickered, twisting into a being of raw flesh and empty sockets, its hell-charred jaws gaping in agony, but the image vanished as the creature spoke. “You must be Alex.” 

“You … I’ve never met you.” Alex’s grace pulled her weapon back up into her sleeve, and she stepped forward, the remnants of her wings fanning out in the night air as she eyed the demon. “Whose side are you on?” The demon’s face remained blank, and her wings fluttered. “Well?” she pressed. “If you’ve got to choose between Crowley and Lucifer, whose dick are you riding?” 

The demon cracked a smile, and his hands slipped into his pockets as he regarded the angel. “Just consider me a free agent.” A hand came free to gesture to the city around them before it promptly disappeared again. “I’m here because of Crowley, but that’s back when he was the undisputed king.” His eyes shifted past her, onto the unmoving corpse. “I don’t like you.” The blunt admittance took Alex aback, and the demon sauntered forward. “Never have, doubt I ever will. You and that egotistical bedmate of yours.” 

Alex’s wings bristled, and her grace twitched against her weapon, but she forced her fingers to uncurl. “I’m sorry — have we even met before? Who the hell are you?” 

“You can call me Mitch. I run this city in every sense but the legal one.” He circled around Alex, and the angel followed suit, wings drawing in as he paused beside the werewolf. He nudged at the arm that was splayed across the concrete, and even in the dim light, Alex could see the frown that briefly marred his smooth face. “I’ll be honest.” Mitch stepped over the corpse with a dismissive shake of his head. “I don’t want either of you in my town, but I don’t have the manpower to evict you myself.” 

The threat in his tone was so strong, so clear, that Alex instinctively reached down for the guidance of Lucifer’s grace, but she paused before she opened a channel to him. _No_. She pulled back and straightened up, and her eyes flashed blue with her own fragile grace. She didn’t need him. “Sounds like a problem alright,” she agreed. “So what’s your plan?” Alex flicked a wing down towards the body at Mitch’s feet. “More of these, I hope. Anything to keep me from having to go to any more of these goddamn ‘social events.’ ” Her lips curled into a thin scowl. “I don’t know how you —”

Lucifer’s grace shifted, waking up within her, and Alex’s back snapped straight. _Time to go._ She turned away, wings flapping twice to hide her own haste. “You won’t have to deal with it for long.” It was the smugness in Mitch’s voice that had her pausing. “Trouble’s on its way.” 

Alex didn’t have to look back to know that the demon had vanished. She shook out her wings again, hands shoved into her pockets as she made her way back towards the boulevard. A demon running LA. Maybe she could make staying here work after all. 

Alex skirted The Perch, clinging to the other side of the road to avoid detection. She should already be back at the hotel by now. If Lucifer wasn’t still occupied at the bar, she was going to be in trouble. For a moment she paused, eyes on the vertical neon sign. She could go back inside — claim she was wrong for leaving and that she just wanted to be with him — but pride had her continuing down the road. If there was one thing she would never do, it would be to concede to him without a fight. Not yet, anyways. This time, she kept her eyes up, alert for any sign that the buzz of life around her was more than just human. 

Most of the crowd was just that, but the closer she looked, the more she caught sight of a flash of fangs here, a glimpse of shimmering eyes there. A pair of blue wings — 

A pair of blue wings. Alex reeled back, and her own wings collided with a street performer, ethereal tangling with the physical. Castiel was standing on the other side of the street, seemingly lost as the crowds swelled around him. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she drew her wings in close. How was he here? Was he following her? She reached down for Lucifer’s thinning barrier, skirting around it in search of degradation. 

Castiel’s head snapped up, his blue eyes burning into hers. _Shit._ His mouth opened, but even though the shout was lost beneath the street life, her name rang loud through her head. 

Alex bolted. She tore through the crowds, ducking under arms and past bodies as she fought to escape. Castiel couldn’t catch her. Not here and now. _Now would be a good time to call Lucifer_ , that small voice said, but she pushed it aside with a snarl so fierce it had the couple ahead of her jumping out of the way. She couldn’t call him — all it would do is get Castiel killed and get her in trouble for straying. _You shouldn’t be here_. She dug down for Castiel’s grace as she spoke, worming through Lucifer’s barrier only long enough to speak. _Get out of town and leave us alone!_

Hands slammed into her shoulders, and Alex bit back a squeak as she stumbled back between two buildings. Darkness washed over her as the bright street disappeared from view, and her wings flared up and out. Even before her grace rose to combat the dark, she knew her attacker was a stranger; his shoulders stood not much taller than hers, and her hands, grappled around his arms, could feel the coarse hair that grew there. With a snarl, she twisted the wrists and they snapped, the sound muffled by her attacker’s scream. 

“Alex!” She had made it three steps before that voice stopped her. A chain-link fence barricaded her escape, and the angel grimaced before she turned around. Castiel was standing beside the stranger, who had fallen to the concrete, clutching his broken bones. Castiel's own wings were drawn in, only the faintest curl of their arches giving away his intensity. “Wait.” His wings stretched out when Alex’s eyes darted past him, searching for escape, and the alleyway was filled with broken blue feathers. 

Alex was quick to snap her wings out, bare vanes rattling like bones. She worked her jaw as she watched Castiel reach out; with the short distance between them, Lucifer's shield was little more than a mesh net, too thin to hold back the bond, and she was painfully aware of Castiel's grace as it spiraled down his arm and into the trembling man. Shattered bones mended, and the man’s deep, open-mouthed gasp was audible through the silence. He waited only a moment, only long enough for Castiel’s hand to pull away, before he scrambled up, tripping in his own haste as he bolted. Once he was out of sight, Alex scoffed. “I think you scared him more than I did.” 

The scorn in her voice seemed to be lost upon the seraph, whose wings twitched once before they folded in. “I didn’t expect to actually find you here. Whatever Lucifer’s done, your grace is muted to me. I didn’t even feel you until you were within ten feet.” 

Alex felt her chest twist, and she ground her teeth until the feeling faded. “It’s for the best.” She reached down, gently feeling around their bond; the warmth of Castiel's grace had begun to creep outwards, tendrils seeping into her limbs. “What are you doing here?” Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to steady it, praying it didn’t sound like desperation. “Can’t you just leave us in peace?” 

“Peace?” Castiel stepped forward. “How many vessels has Lucifer burned through? How many more does he have to kill before you see what he’s doing?” 

Alex’s feathers ruffled, puffing out as she squared up against the seraph. “You can’t put that on him. What — are you telling me you’ve _never_ had a vessel fail on you? And it’s not — it’s not like he likes vessel hopping, anyways.” She swiped a hand through her hair, and urgency dropped her voice into a whisper. “I won’t let him hurt anyone else, Cas. Not if it gets you a-and Crowley and the Winchesters to stay away.” 

A sense of weariness washed through her, spilling out from Castiel. “You can’t stop him from killing, no more than you can stop a fish from swimming.” Alex’s indignation rose, fighting back against the seraph’s emotional fatigue, but Castiel continued on. “Are you willing to let people die just to keep him around?” 

Lucifer’s grace arose within her, the only warning Alex had before crimson wings cut through the night above her head. She snapped her jaw shut; anger brought a curse to her lips, but fear had frozen her tongue. "Well, well." Now that Lucifer was near, his grace consumed her, pulling her beneath its torrents and trapping her under the ice. "What's going on here?" 

"Luce, it's okay. I’m handling this." 

" _You_ were supposed to have been back at the hotel five minutes ago." His voice was loose, calm, but the faint twitch of the muscles in his wings betrayed hidden frustration. "Did you get lost?"

Bare feathers rustled as Castiel's wings rose up, and the corner of Lucifer's lip turned up in a smirk. "Castiel." He took a step forward, and the glint in his eyes became predatory, a wolf before a lamb. "I thought I told you to stay clear." The seraph's eyes darted towards Alex, only returning to Lucifer when the archangel clicked his tongue. "Remember my promise, Castiel. My patience is wearing thin." 

Castiel's jaw set even as a glimmer of unease surfaced; whatever cryptic threat had been made, it had surely hit a nerve. "Think about what I said." 

The words were addressed to Alex, but a quiet, taunting, "Tick tock," had him turning away, battered wings drawing in as he disappeared down the street. One second Alex was standing in the alleyway, Lucifer positioned in front of her, and the next, his hand was on her arm. The street disappeared, giving way to the night sky followed almost instantaneously by the white walls of the hotel room. A snap of the fingers had the lights springing to life, and Alex squared her jaw as she turned for a fight. 

Lucifer had already wandered away, dropping down into the armchair. His wings stretched across the rug, dragging languidly through the soft piles. His finger was against his lips, taking up a quiet, thoughtful tap as his eyes dragged up and down Alex's form. Her wings instinctively drew up, curling around her under his gaze. "What am I going to do with you?" The words were spoken softly; so softly, in fact, that Alex wasn't convinced he wasn't merely talking to himself. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he straightened up in his seat, motioning her to sit with a wave of his hand.

Alex obliged, perching herself on the couch as she leveled her gaze. "What do you mean?" Lucifer's gaze rose up inside of her as she spoke, twisting around Castiel's and tucking it out of sight. "You don't think _I_ called him here, do you?" Her voice rose, still riding high on adrenaline, but the accusation was dismissed with a shake of Lucifer's head. "Then … what?" 

"Clearly you shouldn't be wandering off on your own, not with them in town. Not where I can't feel you." A faint snarl ghosted across his face, quickly quelled even as his grace dug deeper into the nest it had made within Alex. "You'll stay by my side whenever possible." 

Alex wasn't sure if it was a request or a command; the bite to the words seemed to imply the latter. "Huh. Don't you think that'll be a little awkward on your dates?" she retorted, rising to her feet with a scoff. "I'm not sure third-wheeling is one of my things." 

"Speaking of." Lucifer rose as well, and Alex stepped aside as he pushed his way past. "I left Pamela waiting. Another hour or two should be long enough to get the public's gears turning." He turned, and Alex narrowed her eyes as his cold fingers cupped her cheek. His eyes bore into hers, searching as his grace wound upwards towards her head. "You may not be willing to give me your love, but at least I have your jealousy." The corner of his lips twitched into — a snarl? A smile? It was gone so quickly Alex couldn't tell. "I won't stay long. Just long enough to let her down." The fingers drummed, soft and soothing, and then they pulled away. "Don't stray." 

He crossed over to the door, and his grace twisted as he brushed his hand across the panels, burning a single twisted sigil into the wood. Alex stepped toward him, hesitating as his eyes turned towards her. "I'll stay put," she promised. "Just, Luce … promise me you won't hurt her." 

Amusement danced in Lucifer's eyes. "I won't." His wings unfolded, and he disappeared, leaving Alex standing alone in the middle of the room. Two steps took her to the door, and she let her hand hover over the warding. It was unfamiliar, but its intention was clear; either it was meant to keep things out, or to keep her in. _Probably both._ She hurried over to the balcony and stepped out into the night. Wind whipped through her hair, and Alex stretched out her wings to take in the gust even as her eyes drifted down to the street far, far below. Castiel was somewhere down there, searching for her. Lucifer's grace had dwindled again, and she felt her bond with the seraph beckoning her to open up and let him in. How long had she been without him? Too long, according to her grace. With a heavy sigh, she stepped back inside, doing her best to ignore the call; it might allow her to see where he was, but it would inevitably allow him to do the same, to track her down to this very room. 

_Remember my promise, Castiel_. Lucifer's words rang through her head, and Alex dropped down onto the couch with a huff. Neither had spoken to her about a 'promise,' but she'd be damned if it didn't involve some form of harm against her mate. " _Βλάκας_." The curse escaped her lips before she could stop it. _Idiot_. Not only did she need to get Castiel out of town, but she needed to keep the two angels from killing each other in the process. And on top of that, the Winchesters —

Alex fell back into the cushions with a groan. On top of everything, Castiel's presence meant one thing. The Winchesters were on their way.


	8. The Nature of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is an INK song

**Los Angeles, California**

**S** unlight trickled through the curtains, casting dappled shadows on the white walls of the hotel room. They danced across Alex's closed eyes, and the angel turned deeper into the couch, burying her head under one of the soft pillows. Her foot went out as she turned, catching the neck of a guitar, and it crashed into the coffee table with a discordant bang that had Alex's eyes flying open. She must have fallen asleep at some point in the night. She rolled over, and — "Ah!" 

Lucifer was seated in the armchair, legs crossed as he watched her. He didn't startle at her shout, and Alex struggled up into a sitting position, rubbing at her eyes as she held back a glare. The attempt at apathy failed, and Lucifer's fingers drummed upon the armrest, amusement crinkling his grace. "Sleep well?" 

"How long have you been sitting there?" Alex scrubbed at her eyes, fighting back a yawn. "I didn't hear you come back." 

"You were out of it," Lucifer agreed, and one wing unfolded towards her, curling around her shoulder. The soft feathers tickled her cheek and, despite her displeasure, Alex found herself leaning into the caress. "I was back before midnight. You squirm quite a bit in your sleep."

Alex grimaced, and she leaned over to right the fallen guitar. "Yeah. I've been told that. I guess I calm down a bit when there's someone in the bed next to me. Dean told me that a long time ago," she hurried to add, casting a sidelong glance towards Lucifer. "Two beds and three hunters means someone's sharing, and I _was_ the smallest." 

"I know about your arrangements." The wing pulled back, flicking her head in the process, and Alex smoothed down her disheveled hair. "You'll want to get cleaned up. Angela wants me down at the studio at ten to talk about yesterday." 

Alex fumbled around in the couch cushions to find her phone, squinting against the sunlight. "It's quarter to ten now." She tossed the phone onto the coffee table as she stood, and she let her eyes wander across the room. "Where's the bathroom?" 

A flick of Lucifer's wing directed her towards the right, through a doorway and into an equally-white bedroom. A second door lay off to the left, and Alex kicked it closed behind her as she stepped into the tiled bathroom. _Not like closing it does anything._ But a semblance of privacy was better than none at all. With a heaved sigh, Alex turned her attention onto the mirror. Her previous attempts at taming the mess of hair had been unsuccessful, and Alex dug around in her pockets for a hair tie. Combing her nails across her scalp, she divided her hair into three sections and fashioned a simple braid before dropping her eyes onto the rest of her appearance. Her jacket was gone, discarded last night onto the floor of the living room, but her t-shirt was wrinkled — clearly slept in. 

She twisted her grace, dancing it around her shirt. “Luce?” She spoke the archangel’s name, and the air stirred as Lucifer landed at her side. “How do I …?” She tugged on the hem. “I don’t have anything else to change into since, you know, you only got me one outfit.” Before she had finished speaking, Lucifer’s grace surrounded her, winding through the fabric’s threads and pulling them taut. His hand came up to her shoulder, and fingers rubbed gentle circles into the tight muscles before they pulled away. “You didn’t miss much last night.” The words were spoken next to her ear, a low rumble, and Alex watched his reflection run fingers down her braid. “A few more drinks, mindless conversation. It would have been so easy to simply,” — his hand grabbed the back of her neck with a single, sharp squeeze — “end it.”

“You didn’t …” 

“No.” Lucifer chuckled, and he pulled away. “She’s alive. At least, she was when I left her.” 

He turned, but Alex spun around, catching his wrist before he stepped too far. “Wait.” She tugged, and Lucifer turned back with a smirk. “I need you to promise me something.” His amusement hadn’t faded, and she tightened her grip. “Please.”

“What do you want?” Lucifer’s wings curled forward as he extracted himself from her grip, and Alex stepped back, leaning up against the sink. Her hesitation had him frowning. “Well?” 

“Can you promise me that you won’t kill anyone?” Alex suddenly pushed herself forward, chin lifted to look up into Lucifer’s eyes. She put a hand on his chest as she stepped close to him; she couldn’t feel his breath hitch, but his wings did flitter. However, his face remained expressionless. “Look.” She tightened her grip, pushing the innocence from her voice. “The reason that Castiel is here —”

“Is to stop me.” Wings curled forward, boxing her in. “We’ve already had this conversation, _mohaoth._ ” Lucifer’s eyes darkened, but when he reached up to stroke her hair, his touch was light. “I can’t make you that promise.” The humor was gone, leaving behind cold sincerity. “But, for your sake, I can give it a try.” His lips parted, poised as if to say something else, but after a second, they closed again. 

Alex pushed her grace against his, but he remained silent. “Thank you,” she finally said. “I just … I don’t want to lose you again.” She slipped out from under his grip, ignoring how his grace seemed to furrow against hers. “We should get going if we don’t want to be late,” she added over her shoulder, shaking out her wings as she stepped into the bedroom. “If you’re actually dead set on being a rockstar, you’ll need to put in the work.” 

She heard Lucifer huff, but he followed after her, his amusement returning. “Oh, I intend to put in the work,” she heard him say. “It just may not be the work you expect.” There was a chirp, and Alex glanced back as she stopped beside the couch. There was a small frown on Lucifer’s part as he reached into his pocket, a look that faded as he read the text he had received on Vince's phone. “It looks like our driver is here. An old friend of mine, she claims.” His wings swept out, motioning towards the floor, and Alex hurriedly scooped up her jacket, running quick hands down the sleeves before she shrugged it on. 

When she looked back up, Lucifer was already out the door. She bolted after him, skirting the door with the ashen sigil, before catching up to the archangel beside the elevator doors. “An old friend?” she repeated. “One of ours, or one of …” She motioned to Lucifer’s vessel, lowering her voice as a woman passed through the halls. “Of Vince’s,” she finished. 

“Vince’s.” The elevator dinged, and Lucifer stepped inside, ushering her after him. “Her name is Roseleen Greenfield, which rings a faint bell. She’s one of Vince’s fans.” The elevator jerked as it began to descend, and Lucifer’s wings shifted; even with only the two angels occupying the space, the size of his wings made the elevator seem small and cramped. “He hasn’t seen her in over twenty years.” 

Alex grunted, brushing her hands across her jeans to smooth out the pockets. “Huh. Did they have like a … thing or something?” She reached up to pull a hair off of Lucifer’s shoulders, and she felt the thick muscles of his upper wings twitch as her fingers grazed over his feathers. “I mean, Vince has to have had a lot of fans in his day. What’s so special about this one?” 

“She ended up working for Ladyheart as a concert promoter.” The elevator dinged again, opening up to the lobby, and the archangel stepped out. “Vince hasn’t spoken to her since the band broke up, but Tommy must have invited her back for the reunion tour.” 

“Vince!” There was a shout from their left, and Alex peered past Lucifer in search of the source. A woman stood near the hotel door, a hand raised in their direction. She wore a leopard print tank top under a vest, the black leather worn and aged so precisely that it suggested design, not use. “Over here!” 

Lucifer turned with a grin, leaving Alex to follow, staying two steps behind. “Roseleen,” he greeted, arms half-spread, and Roseleen threw herself into his offered hug with such force that it had Lucifer’s wings flitting. “It’s been a long time.” 

“Too long,” Roseleen agreed, and her hand lingered on Lucifer’s arm as she pulled away. “I can’t believe it’s been almost fifteen years. You look great, by the way.” The compliment was met by a grin, and Roseleen’s cheeks flushed beneath her makeup. Her eyes darted over to Alex, and the familiarity fell away. “Hi. Roseleen Greenfield. I work with Death Siren Studio and Ladyheart.”

She extended a hand, and Alex stepped forward to shake it. “Hey. Alex. I’m … just a friend.” She flicked Lucifer with a wing, an unseen gesture that had his eyes turning onto her. “We should get going. It’s not going to look good to Angela if we’re late two days in a row.” 

She ignored the look Roseleen gave the two of them, instead nodding past her towards the door. When neither moved, she stepped past to take the lead. “You were late yesterday?” she heard Roseleen ask as Alex stepped out onto the street; Lucifer’s response was a murmur, too quiet for Alex to hear over the clamor of the crowds. Whatever he said, it seemed to sate Roseleen’s curiosity. “Ah.” She lengthened her step to take the lead, and Alex let her open up the door to the black sedan that sat on the curb. “Well, then we better not keep Angela waiting.” 

**T** he doors to Death Siren Studios greeted them with a blast of cold air that had Alex’s feathers rustling. She rolled her shoulders back, trying to shake the discomfort, as she followed Lucifer and Roseleen into the lobby. The walk up to studio seven was surprisingly silent after the ride there; Roseleen finally seemed at a loss for conversation, and Lucifer’s face had darkened in contemplation. 

Angela was waiting inside, seated in one of the leather chairs. On the other side of the room, through the glass, was the rest of the band. Tommy was seated at the drums, lips moving as he spoke to Neil. The guitarist was nodding in accordance with what was being said, adjusting the silver pegs between lazily-picked riffs. Neither guitar nor words made it past the thick wall that divided the studio in two. Tommy's eyes flickered up when they entered, and he nodded in their direction; Alex answered with a small wave. “You’re here.” Angela had risen to her feet, and Alex looked over in time to see the frown pointed in her direction. “And on time.” 

“You said you had big news.” Lucifer settled himself against the soundboard, arms crossed and, after a moment, Roseleen sat down at his side. “Well?” He clapped his hands together, the curling of his wings betraying the excitement that failed to make it into his voice. “Let’s hear it.” 

“You want to hear it?” Angela’s frown deepened into a scowl, and she held out her tablet for him to see. “I told you to leave your _friend_ behind last night.” The screen displayed the alley behind The Perch, and Alex could clearly make out herself, standing beside the much taller figure of Vince. Despite the darkness, it was clear that his hand was on her cheek, her chin lifted to hold his gaze. "What were you thinking, sneaking out to the alleyway with her in the _middle of your date?_ ” 

“I’ll do what I want.” Lucifer handed the tablet back with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Nothing happened. I sent her to the hotel and went back inside.” 

“Well, people are talking, and they’re speculating secret lover, long lost daughter, and everything in between.” Angela reigned in her frown, and she set her tablet on the table beside her, adjusting her skirt as she drew in a deep breath. “Well,” she finally said, voice tight, “publicity is publicity. On a … brighter … note, your tweet about Ladyheart’s reunion already has over a million engagements. When you were solo, you were lucky to have 300 likes.” Lucifer hummed, and Alex lifted her eyebrows, casting him a sidelong glance: was that _understanding_ in his eyes? What did the devil know about social media? “The band’s teaser track on Soundcloud? Half a million streams in four hours.” If Angela saw the look Alex had given him, she had firmly chosen to ignore it. "Buzzfeed just posted an article — ’10 Things You Need to Know About Ladyheart.’ Last night aside, this is good, Vince. Really good.” 

Lucifer’s grin had only grown. “Great.” 

“It’s happening, Vince.” Unlike the archangel, Roseleen had no qualms about holding back her elation. “I mean, we are gonna be famous again.” 

The door on the other side of the room creaked open, and Tommy stepped through. His eyes flickered across the three women before coming to rest on Lucifer. “Vince.” He crooked a finger, and Lucifer brushed his hand across Alex’s shoulders as he rose up. “So, are we actually gonna record or what?” 

“Hmm.” Lucifer paused in front of the guitarist and, while Alex couldn’t see his face, his proximity had his disinterest rolling through her grace like waves. “Not really feeling it.” 

Tommy’s jaw visibly ticked, and when he spoke, his voice was tight. “Come on, man. The band’s back together. We’ve actually got a recording budget. Dude.” He put a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, and the archangel’s wings twitched, displeased at the touch. "Let’s make some music.” 

“Music.” Lucifer all but spat out the word, and he looked back at Angela. “What are the fans saying about me right now?” 

“Mostly, they’re tweeting about last night,” Angela said; the frustration had faded, mingling with resignation. “Speculating if you and Pam Anderson are rekindling or if you’re trying to hide a darker secret.” That statement had Alex rolling her eyes. “Some are also debating whether Vince Vincente is bae, nay, or daddy.” 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Tommy muttered. 

“It means it’s not about the music. It never really was.” Lucifer spread out his arms, but his voice remained quiet; even Alex, standing barely a foot from him, could barely hear without the aid of her grace. “You know, rock’s not the reason. It’s just an excuse to worship, to adore … See, humans have always been desperate to put someone or something above them. And let’s face it: God ain’t cutting it these days. It takes a Kim Kardashian, a whatever Justin Bieber is. A _me_.” His wings flicked back, and after a second, his chin followed suit, gesturing to Angela and Roseleen. “They’re enjoying the ride. So should you.”

“L — Vince.” Alex’s wings brushed against Lucifer’s calves, and he turned. “Can I talk to you for a minute? About this.” She watched as Lucifer’s wings swept open, a gesture for her to speak up, and she frowned. “In private,” she added. “Just for a minute.” 

Vexation prickled at the edge of his grace, but Lucifer obliged, and Alex led the way out of the studio. “Well?” Lucifer closed the door behind him, and the facade fell away from his eyes. “What is it, little one?” 

“I’m not sure you’re making the right call here.” Alex retreated another few steps down the hall. “If you want to get new fans — n-new cult followers, whatever — you need music, Luce. That’s what they’re here for, and that’s what they’re going to stay for.” 

Lucifer snorted, and he ushered Alex to the side as a man walked through, eyes on his phone. “If you want music or theatrics, go fetch Gabriel,” he warned, just loud enough for her to hear. “My skill is in the modes of persuasion.” When Alex opened his mouth, his grace rose up, pressing into her lips to keep her silent. “Alex. I can’t sing, I can’t play the guitar.” His hand followed suit, fingers replacing his grace against her lips, and Alex let out a soft, silent breath. “This vessel can go through the motions of all the old hits, but new music … that comes from the soul. And Vince’s soul has left the building.” 

Alex pressed her grace into his, digging down through the ice, and she felt Lucifer chuckle as she dug through every inch of his vessel. “When did that happen?” She watched as Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted, and she scowled. “Rowena. Right.” She pulled away, eyes turning up and down the empty hall. “Geez, Luce, maybe you should have thought about your own skillset before jumping into a fucking _musician_ then. Should have picked a career more your speed. Like a motivational speaker. Or a politician." 

The corner of Lucifer’s lip quirked into a grin, but all he said was, “Your minute’s up.” 

He disappeared back into the studio, leaving Alex to stomp her foot in frustration before she followed. “— shouldn’t be — oh.” Angela’s lips pressed together as they entered, and her eyes darted between the two angels. “Terry’s still on for that interview this afternoon. And for the love of God, Vince, if you care about your public image at all, leave Alex behind this time.”

The arches of Lucifer’s wings lifted, a hint of a threat, and Alex ducked her head as she slipped past the humans to sit at the other side of the room. “You really think it would impact what people think of me?” A wing dragged up Alex’s spine as he spoke, and Alex suppressed a shiver at the light touch. “That it would affect tomorrow’s turnout?” Angela nodded, and the wing drew away. “Okay. Then she'll stay.”

“Wait —”

“Thank you.” Angela rose to her feet, tucking her tablet into her purse as she smiled. “You should get going if you want to be there on time. I have a video conference at noon, so I won’t be able to join you. I’ll see you tomorrow before the concert.” 

“Roseleen can drive me, right, sweetheart?” Lucifer grinned in the woman’s direction, and Alex turned away to hide a roll of her eyes. “Great.” He rose, motioning the others towards the door ahead of him. 

“Wait!” Alex jumped up as they filed out, and the archangel paused in the doorway. “What am I supposed to do? Or has my ban on wandering away been lifted?” 

“It most certainly is not.” Lucifer planted a hand against the sticker-laden door, and the wood hissed as he burned his warding into the wood. “You seem to know something about Vince’s — _my_ — music, so why don’t you see what Tommy and the others have put together, huh? And if it’s any good … then maybe I’ll think about considering it.” He grinned, but it faded at the sight of Alex’s petulant frown. “Give me one sec,” he called over his shoulder, and then he stepped back into the studio, shutting the door behind him. “Come here.” 

The words were murmured, but there was an edge that made Alex dare not disobey. She crossed the room to stand in front of him, wings flittering nervously; he was going to chastise her, wasn’t he? “Now what?” she snapped; her voice didn’t quaver, and she stuck out her chin. 

The fingers on her jaw sucked the warmth from her skin, and Alex struggled to hold back a surprised inhale. “I know you don’t like this.” Lucifer’s voice was quiet, only audible because his face was so close that his breath ghosted across her lips, and suddenly all Alex could focus on was how this vessel's breath smelled of peppermint: how could she have never noticed that? His grace was rising, wrapping around her, and Alex struggled to push it down — to push him away before he swallowed her whole — but trying to control Lucifer was like controlling the moon. “Just remember that all of this is for an end.” A questioning ‘Vince?’ came from the other side of the door, and Lucifer’s tongue darted out across his lips. “Don’t be jealous.” The fingers shifted, chucking her under the chin until Alex lifted her eyes to meet his. “If you want me, all I need is an answer from you. Just one tiny word, and I’m yours.” His fingers danced down her neck, and Alex jerked backward, slamming her palm down over her bond as Castiel’s grace rose up. Her eyes glowed blue, pale yet defiant, and Lucifer pulled away with a hum; the soft noise wasn't enough to hide the glint in his eyes. “Very well. I think I’ll take Roseleen out after my interview. Don’t worry: we’ll come back for you.” 

The door slammed behind him, leaving Alex working her jaw as she dug around for an insult. “Fuck you,” she finally ground out, and she shoved her hands into her pockets as she pressed her grace into the door. The sigil glowed under the pressure, but it held. With a huff, Alex turned away, scrubbing a hand through her hair. If she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn that warding existed only to keep her in — no. She shook her head as she retreated, dropping down into one of the leather chairs. Lucifer was a lot of things, but spiteful wasn’t one. The warding would keep Castiel — or more importantly, Crowley — out just as surely as it kept her in. 

_If you wanted to keep them away, you could just be his mate_. Alex shoved that small voice down, burying it deep within her, but it kept worming its way back up. _It's what you want. Right?_

“Alex?” Tommy’s voice snapped her from her thoughts, and she lifted her head towards the welcome distraction. “Where did Vince go?” 

“Some interview gig on the other side of the city.” Alex pushed herself to her feet with a heavy sigh as Lucifer's words repeated in her head. _Why don’t you see what Tommy and the others have put together, huh?_ “So, I heard you guys have written some new music. Can I hear it?” 

**T** heir music _was_ good. Even with the years of disbandment, the harmonies blended with a practiced ease, each instrument complimenting and building alongside the others. However, three hours of practicing eventually came to an end, leaving Alex alone in the studio, seated behind the drums playing a short beat Tommy had taken the time to show her. 

Another hour passed, and then a few more. By four pm,, Alex had spread herself out across the leather couch across from the drums, wings spilling onto the thick white rug below. By five, she had moved down onto the floor itself, eyes tracing the paneling on the ceiling. At five thirty she dimmed the lights, choosing to try and chase sleep instead, but seven o'clock had her sitting against the far wall, plucking away at Neil’s guitar. 

The opening of the studio door had her fingers pausing on the steel strings, ears pricked at the voices that drifted through. She recognized Lucifer’s even as his grace shifted within her — its first sign of life since his departure that morning — and she opened her mouth to speak, but Roseleen’s small giggle had her jaw clicking shut. She strummed a last discordant note before leaning the guitar up against one of the speakers. “Alex.” Crimson wings rustled in the still air, and Alex’s wings flittered in response as she looked up towards the voice’s source. “There you are.” 

Lucifer stepped into sight, and the young angel rose, pretending to dust off her jeans to hide her frown. “You’re finally back. Here I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.” Her eyes flickered off behind him, and she added, “Is it just you?” 

“Roseleen’s in the bathroom.” Lucifer shrugged, and he dropped down onto the couch with an unceremonious thump, wings spreading out as he lounged. “How was your time here? I trust the band didn’t give you any troubles.” 

“They were great. Tommy’s actually a neat guy, and the new music is surprisingly good.” Alex dropped back down onto the carpet, hiding a smirk at the faint pulse of jealousy that ran along Lucifer’s grace. “Too bad you weren’t around to hear it.” 

Her scorn was dismissed with a wave of Lucifer’s hand. The creaking of the studio door announced Roseleen’s presence, and he lowered his voice. “Have you thought about your answer?” His grace snaked out, teeth chewing at his bottom lip, and Alex narrowed her eyes, chin tilted upward in faint defiance as she pressed her lips together. She watched as his face curled into a grin, a smile that faded as Roseleen stepped into sight. “Great. Well, if you’re not interested then, you’re free to wander about while the adults have a little talk.” 

He shifted to the edge of the couch, wings pulling aside as he waved Roseleen closer, and Alex pursed her lips to hold back a huff. _Adults?_ she repeated, barely able to keep the scorn from her tone. _Really?_

 _Bye bye_. Lucifer waved her away, and Alex had little choice but to obey; Roseleen was staring at Lucifer with big, dewy eyes, and despite the archangel’s lax posture, there was an intensity hidden in his gaze, daring her to protest. “Okay.” She forced her voice to be placid, adding a small smile when Lucifer’s grin faltered. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

She paused beside the door, hand on the doorknob as she lifted her grace. The warding was gone now, and Alex pushed her way out into the hall with a huff. The iridescent lights above stung at her eyes, still adjusted to the dusk of the studio, and the young angel shook out her wings as she stalked away. By the time she reached the end of the hall, Lucifer’s grace had almost completely faded, stretched thin by the distance, and Alex finally let her frustrations spill up and over. Was he really using other women to pressure her like that? 

For a half a second, jealousy boiled up, and her eyes darted towards the elevator. Two could play at that game — no. Alex shook her head, and she started pacing back down the hallway, hands shoved into her pockets. Lucifer wouldn’t hesitate to kill a guy if she so much as _looked_ at him.

Alex stepped into the stairwell, and the heavy metal door swung shut with a bang. Her eyes turned down the stairs, but after only a moment she let them drift upwards. The front door was undoubtedly warded, but the roof … the roof was safe, and it was empty. 

The sun was beginning to set as she emerged from the stairs, the horizon red fire, and Alex hopped up to settle on the concrete wall, dangling her feet over the edge. The sidewalk below was still packed; if Alex squinted, the moving pinpricks vaguely appeared human. It was a long way down, and the angel spread her wings as a breeze swept past. The broken vanes rattled, and she curled one forward to finger the feathers. They couldn’t carry the weight even if she were to jump, but somehow, she couldn’t believe that such a fall would hurt her. 

She sat there until the sun set, and then for longer still, until Lucifer’s voice rang through her head. _Where’d you go, little lamb? You can come back now._

“Be right down.” Alex slung her legs back over the wall and slid down onto the roof, wings folding in against her back. Her grace unlocked the door, and she stepped back inside of Death Siren Studio. She jumped down the stairs, taking her time to descend to the third floor. The door to studio seven was unlocked, the lights were still dim, and Alex had to blink to bring her eyes to adjust. Lucifer was still seated on the black leather couch, but Roseleen was gone, and the room smelled … wrong. Alex’s nostrils flared, drawing the air over the roof of her mouth. It smelled like blood. 

She let the door swing shut behind her, eyeing the dark stain that decorated the white rug. With a flitter of feathers, Alex gave the stain and the couch a wide berth; the dim lighting and dark leather hid any blemish, but there was little doubt it too was soaked. The sense of relief overwhelmed the faint chill that ran up her spine, and Alex dropped down onto the floor beside Lucifer, picking up her discarded guitar. “Did you kill her?” The question was spoken casually enough, but Alex watched him with a keen eye as she started picking out the bridge to the old Ladyheart ballad _There's a Good Reason That Angels Are Numbered._

Lucifer chuckled, and Alex plucked a final note before pausing. “She’s not dead,” he promised, and his tongue dragged across his teeth. “In fact, I suspect she’ll make a full and quick recovery.” There was a note of smugness — of contentment — in his voice that had Alex frowning. The displeasure must have been mistaken for jealousy, because Lucifer let out a lazy grin. “Do you know what it feels like to be loved, to be worshipped? Roseleen had such a love for Vince — for _me_ — that she would do anything for me. Even bleed.” From his pocket he produced a folded blade, and Alex’s fingers faltered as the knife sprung open to reveal bloodstained steel. “So much … _sweet_ devotion for a man who never bothered to give her the time of day. And you see, it made me think: would you do the same?” 

The knife twisted in his hand, blade pressed into his palm as he extended the handle towards her, and Alex let the guitar slide onto the ground. Lucifer leaned close, wings curling forward, and she reached out to take the blade. There was a budded cross engraved on the handle, inlaid with gold, and she paused to run her fingers along the spine. “You know me.” She could feel Lucifer’s eyes upon, greedy and dark, and her tongue darted out to lick at her lips. Her fingertip hesitated along the knife’s tip before she finally slid it down to push aside the lock, folding the blade back into the handle and out of sight. “I won't give an inch without a fight."

She held the knife back out, and Lucifer hummed. “The hunt is certainly more exhilarating that way.” His hand went past the knife, grabbing her wrist, and Alex gasped as she was suddenly hauled up to her feet and jerked forward until her calves crashed into Lucifer’s knees. “If you were anyone else, your game would have ended a long time ago.” Despite being seated below her, the upward tilt to his head was cocky, the glint in his eyes predatory, and Alex suddenly felt like she wasn’t the one towering over the other. “Be warned, angel, I’m growing tired of it. If you won’t make your decision, I’ll make it for you.” 

The hand on her wrist tightened, yanking her down onto his lap. “I already told you why I’m not interested.” Her wings spread out, balancing her as she planted her knees on either side of him, and she let her eyes drift across his face, old and thin, a complete contrast to the cold, vibrant eyes. She reached up, and her fingers ghosted across his dark hair. “This vessel is old. It’s frail, and it’s falling apart. You can do better, and I …” 

“And you don’t want to be seen with a face like this.” Crimson wings curled around them, keeping her near, and his hands cupped her cheeks. “You can’t look past the surface, can you? You know as well as I do that this vessel is going to fade eventually. This one, and the next one, on and on until I find one meant for an archangel or until I find Rowena.” The smile faded at the witch’s name. “Assuming I don’t rip her spine out through her teeth first.” For a moment he fell silent, and then the smile returned, toothy and dangerous as the lights faded overhead. “You’ll get used to this face in time.” 

Fingers combed through her hair, soft and gentle, and Alex let her eyes slip closed, leaning into the touch. “And if I don’t?” she dared to ask, and the caress ceased. She let her eyes crack open, grace rising to make out Lucifer’s face through the darkness. 

His jaw was tight, gaze distant as he pondered his answer. She could feel frustration prickling along where his grace resided beside hers, and she reached up with one hand to hold the wrist that still cupped her cheek. “If you don’t,” she heard him say, “then perhaps you’ll find I’m not as patient as Castiel. You pulled him along for how many years before you finally let him have you?” His hand pulled away from her face to move down her neck, the light pads of his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake, and Alex felt her cheeks burn red as they paused on her sternum. “If you want me, I’m yours. But I’m not going to chase you any longer. Do I make myself clear?” 

Alex’s wings flittered, and Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted as the silence lengthened. _Oh_. He was looking for an answer. “Yes." 

“Good girl.” His wings fell away, opening up to the cool air. “It’s time for us to go, little one. Tomorrow is the big day.” He nudged her to her feet, rising up alongside her with his hands on her hips. “Our big day. How would you like to celebrate?” His head dipped, and Alex twisted as his breath ghosted against her cheek. “We could spend the night on the town, explore the nightlife, or … we could get a room for the night.” 

“We have a room.” Alex planted her hands against his chest, applying enough pressure to wiggle back a few inches. “Our room has _multiple_ rooms. What’s wrong with that one?”

Lucifer hummed, and his mouth curled into a close-lipped grimace as he pulled back. “It’s been compromised, thanks to Crowley. The Winchesters are in town.” The grimace darkened into a scowl, and Lucifer stepped away, his wings flaring out as he turned around to pace across the room. “They’re relentless in hunting me down, but yet you won’t let me kill them. What do you expect me to do?” He turned on his heels, wings sweeping open. “Don’t say keep running,” he warned, and Alex squared her jaw. “I didn’t run from my brother, and I’m not going to run from a pesky pair of _humans_ and their supernatural scent hounds.” 

“I told you before.” Alex stepped back to avoid his wings, folding her arms across her chest. “You have to prove you’re not a threat. Or lay low enough that they just don’t notice you. Take a note from Gabriel’s playbook for once, huh?” 

“Gabriel’s the _king_ of running away.” Two steps took Lucifer back to Alex’s side, and his hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her eyes up to meet his. “I’ll give them one chance — one warning — to leave us alone. And that if they persevere, then I’ll be forced to use physical violence.” 

“You know they’re not going to listen.” Alex tried to rip her head free, but Lucifer’s hold was unbreakable. 

For just a moment, his grip tightened. “Then it seems we’re at an impasse. You won’t let me kill them, I won’t run away, and they won’t listen to reason. Something’s going to have to give, or else I’ll end up back in that hellhole.” His eyes glowed, a faint and dusky red, as he studied her face held inches from his. “And you don’t want that, right?” 

“I don’t.” Alex grabbed his wrists in her hands, and her battered wings wrapped around his back. Her surprise and desperation must have crept into her tone, because pleasure prickled along the edges of her grace. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” She tugged on his wrists, and Lucifer’s hands finally fell away. “Maybe I should go talk to them, just by myself. Sam and Cas will listen to me, even if Dean won’t.”

“And Crowley?” 

“If I’m lucky, he’ll take any excuse not to challenge you face to face.” Alex stepped back towards the door, wings falling open as she drew in a breath of fresh air. “I shouldn’t be gone long —“

Lucifer’s grace rose up, yanking her back from the edge of the room. “Don’t be stupid. You’re not going.” The words were growled in his throat, and Alex's wings fell low, feathers dragging across the bloodstained rug. “They’ve already made it clear they’ll use you to get to me, so I’m keeping you as close to me and as far from them as possible." For a moment he paused, letting his words hang mid-air until Alex fidgeted in the silence. "Now," he finally said, and to her relief, the intensity had left his tone, "it’s your choice. Do we hit the town, or go somewhere more private?” 

Alex’s shoulders slumped, and she drew her wings in, pinned tightly against her back. “Town is fine,” she muttered. “Let’s see what the nighttime has to offer.” 

**I** t wasn’t long before Alex realized Lucifer’s definition of “seeing the town” was “barhopping.” Five hours later, she was seated in a leather stool, staring into her amber drink while she watched Lucifer from the corner of her eye. A blonde sat at his side, all but hanging from his arm, and Alex wrinkled her nose; she could smell the alcohol on her breath from here. She was talking — she had been for the past half hour — but Alex had long since tuned out the boring, nasally drabble. Four bars in five hours, each with a different crowd of women that had fawned over Lucifer, and Alex could feel her patience thinning with each second. If one of them so much as _looked_ at her —

Lucifer's grace thrummed against hers, languid and fluid with amusement, and Alex’s shoulders dropped to find that both he and the woman were looking in her direction. Great. “I don’t think she heard me.” The woman’s voice grated at Alex’s nerves, and her wings flittered. “Honey, did you hear me? I asked you a question. How did you and Vince meet?” 

Alex turned her eyes back onto her drink, swirling it slightly as she recited the well-practiced answer. “Back when he was solo, out somewhere in the midwest," she intoned. "Don’t worry, he’s like a father to me.” 

“Mm.” The woman’s nails trailed down Lucifer’s arm, and Alex’s fingers clenched around the smooth glass: was she _intentionally_ making her voice that irritating? “Do you call him ‘dad,’ because I’ll certainly be calling him daddy.” 

“Great.” Alex slammed down the last of her drink and pushed herself to her feet, broken vanes rattling. “That’s my cue. I’m out.” She felt Lucifer’s grace solidify, but she didn’t bother to look back as she shoved her way into the crowd. See the town, he had said. But after five hours, four bars, and eight drinks — _nine_ drinks, she corrected — all she was seeing was red. She could feel Lucifer following her; every time he fell behind, cut off by a passerby, his grace within her weakened, but the feeling never lasted long as the archangel continued his pursuit. 

His hand on her shoulder was what finally had her stopping, arches rising in the hint of a warning as she forced herself to not turn around. “Hold up there. You can’t go running off on your own.” 

“What’s your plan here, _Vince_?” Alex ripped her shoulder free, but the grip merely dropped down to envelop her wrist. “To make me jealous? Again? Well congrats, cause it’s working, but you’re not going to get what you want.” She forced her muscles lax, and Lucifer finally let her free.

When his silence grew, she turned; his eyes were clouded and distant, and his wings had curled forward, lazily sweeping across her feet. “I’m glad to have your jealousy even if that wasn’t my intention — well, main intention,” he corrected at Alex’s pout; some of the humor momentarily slipped from his face. “Have you ever noticed how easily humans jump for a hook? So desperate to give their love away.” 

Alex huffed. “That’s because they’re prostitutes. It’s sort of their job.” 

“That’s not it.” A wing cuffed the side of her head, and Alex fell silent with a roll of her eyes. “Human nature is to worship, whether it be money, love … a man in the sky.” His eyes flicked upwards, a look so short it was over in a blink. “So when they stumble upon something as celestial as I … well,” — Lucifer chuckled — “you know what Roseleen did. They can get so wrapped up in the awe they just can’t help themselves.” The back of his hand stroked her cheek, and Alex stiffened as she found herself leaning into the touch. 

She yanked herself away, almost tripping in her haste, and Lucifer’s eyes flashed in the dark as she planted her hands on her bip. “Alright well, have fun with your posse. I’m going for a walk — just around the block,” she added when his face darkened. Her wings lifted, rising just above her head as her vanes puffed out threateningly. “Can you please just stay here?” 

Lucifer’s grace flicked; for a second, Alex could have sworn she heard his voice in the back of her head, a quiet mumble where “temperamental” was the only audible word, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. His wings pushed him forward half a step, and Alex tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry if my day job is getting under your nerves,” he murmured; his voice was equal parts amusement and sincerity, and Alex’s wings bristled. “Don’t stray far.” The amusement was gone, replaced with a darker note. “The moment I can’t feel you anymore, I’m coming after you.” 

“Understood.” Alex waited until Lucifer nodded before she slunk away, head ducked and wings pulled in tight as she wove her way towards the door. Day job her ass. He was after something else. “Sort of a roundabout way to get to me,” she muttered, and she shoved her hands into her pockets as she stepped out into the night. Lucifer’s grace was already thinning, and Alex moved down the road with a roll of her eyes. She didn’t doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to come after her, but that wasn’t going to stop her from sticking to the outskirts of his range. 

“Trouble in paradise?” A voice in her ear had Alex whirling around. It took her a moment to recognize the man — demon, she corrected with a thin scowl. 

“Mitch, right?” Alex turned the corner, lengthening her stride, but the demon didn’t miss a step, all but gliding forward at her side. “Great. What do you want?” 

“Want? Nothing but to see the two of you off of my turf.” Mitch shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat as they walked, and Alex forced the scowl from her face. “Now, come on, Evelyn.” He suddenly stopped and grabbed her wrist, pulling her around to face him. “Hear me out.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Alex growled, and she ripped her arm free. 

“I know in the past few years you’ve gained something of a fearsome reputation, but once upon a time, I remember that you had to rely on your smarts, not your strength.” Mitch’s hand came to rest upon her shoulder, and Alex frowned down at it. “I know that big brain’s still in there, so how about we try and use it? Just like old times.” The hand fell away, and Alex redirected her frown onto Mitch’s face. “All you have to do is convince Lucifer to leave this city once and for all.”

“You’re delusional.” Alex walked away, leaving Mitch to catch up. “I’m not working with you, and I’m definitely not going to help you over Lucifer.” 

“You don’t have to hide it. I know things aren’t going well in the bedroom.” Mitch’s words brought a growl to her throat, and the demon chuckled wryly before the humor faded. “Alright, how about I just hop on over to the edge of town and tell your old pals that you and your boyfriend are touring Sunset Boulevard —”

Alex twisted, and the crowd parted as she threw Mitch down the nearest alleyway. She followed, pinning him against the wall before he managed to regain his balance. “Blackmail? That’s your plan B?” She balled her fists in the demon’s shirt. “I don’t even know who you are — there’s nothing stopping me from just killing you right now.” Mitch’s eyes flashed, and she pulled a thoughtful face, grip tightening. “That would solve this whole problem through, wouldn’t it?”

“And what problem would that be?” Lucifer’s voice had Alex immediately dropping the demon. “What’s going on here?” 

Alex turned to find the archangel standing in the entrance to the alleyway. “Lucifer.” Mitch wiggled his way out from behind her, and Alex swallowed back the urge to kill him where he stood. “We didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Lucifer cocked an eyebrow with a look in Alex’s direction. _We?_

His voice echoed through her head, rich with amusement, and Alex’s broken feathers bristled as her grace swelled indignantly. _There’s no ‘we,’_ she retorted. _He’s lying_.

 _i know_. “What exactly are you doing with a demon?” That question was spoken aloud, and Alex shifted backwards to find that the humor had been replaced with a sterner note. “I thought we had already discussed your involvement in the supernatural.”

“W-What?” 

“So you know she killed one of my girls.” Mitch made a show of dusting off his clothes before he stepped forward. “Now, I’ll be the first to admit that werewolves make terrible —”

“Werewolves, huh?” Lucifer’s eyes bore into hers, and Alex fought back the urge to flinch before his gaze moved on. “And … who exactly are you?” His grace snuck out, drawing the demon closer until he could reach out to fix the twisted collar. 

“Mitch.” For a brief moment, the demon’s calm facade faltered, but the cracks didn’t last. “I run the finer points of this city.” Lucifer hummed and, emboldened, Mitch added, “We have a very precarious balance here. If you're not careful —”

He cut off with a squeak as Lucifer’s hand caught the demon by the neck. “If I’m not careful.” Amusement crinkled at his eyes, and his tongue darted out to run along his teeth. “If I’m being honest, I don’t care about the little ecosystem you’ve created. You’re scum, bottom feeders, and guess what — there’s a new addition to the food chain.” Lucifer’s grip tightened, and Mitch’s fingers scrabbled at the archangel’s wrist as he was hoisted off of the ground until their faces were level. The air chilled as Lucifer’s grace rose up, and Alex’s eyes darted towards the street as Mitch’s face burned away, his scream silenced by Lucifer’s hand. No one so much as glanced their way.

“Good riddance.” Alex turned back as Mitch’s corpse fell at her feet; the face was scorched beyond recognition, and blood oozed from where Lucifer’s nails had torn into his throat. Lucifer was frowning — at her, Alex realized — and she was quick to match the expression. “What’s that look for?” she snapped. “ _He_ approached _me_. I’m glad he’s dead.” Lucifer cocked an eyebrow, and her wings bristled. “Oh, so you can just go off and flirt with whores, but I can’t kill one lousy werewolf. What am I supposed to do around here, just die of boredom?”

Lucifer’s feet carried him over Mitch’s corpse, and his hand, still glistening with blood, cupped her cheek. “No, I don’t. But I did promise to curb my bloodlust, and I had hoped you’d do the same. You’re not a hunter anymore.” 

Alex opened her mouth, anger rising up in her eyes, but she swallowed back her wry retort, settling instead with a huff. “Alright, _if_ it keeps you from offing poor, innocent civilians, I’ll stop killing, you know, the actually dangerous stuff.” 

_I hope you’re worth all the trouble you cause me_. The stern thought were dulled by a gentle, affectionate squeeze of her cheek, and then Lucifer stepped away, his grace brushing across her skin to remove the bloodstains left behind. “I’ve had enough entertainment for tonight,” he said, his wings curling against her back as he ushered her past Mitch’s still form. “Let’s find somewhere quiet to pass the night. And tomorrow …” His wings drew away, filling the narrow alleyway as he shook them out. “Tomorrow everything changes.” 

**T** he night was spent on the twentieth floor of the NoMad Hotel, as was the day; when Alex had stirred with the first light of dawn, Lucifer was gone, leaving behind only a warding on the door and an address with scrawled instructions not to be late. So fifteen hours later, Alex found herself standing outside Death Sirens Records, her wings pinned at her sides as she glanced up and down the lamp-lit street. Lucifer was nowhere in sight, and the thin line of his grace only pointed vaguely westward. Wherever he was, it wasn’t anywhere near her. 

A black limo was approaching through the traffic, looming like a shark among a school of rapidly darting pedestrians. Alex stepped back as it pulled up alongside the curb, and she gave a quick, anxious tug on Lucifer’s grace. _Where are you?_

“That’s her.” The voice was barely audible through the metal of the vehicle, and Alex’s feathers bristled before she recognized the source. A second later one of the doors swung open, revealing Tommy’s frowning face. It took Alex a moment to recognize him through the darkness; gone were his street clothes of well-worn flannel and acid-washed jeans, replaced with black leather, and his blonde hair had been pulled back behind a red bandana. He leaned out, and the frown deepened as his eyes swept the sidewalk. “Where’s Vince? He’s supposed to be here.” 

“Give him a minute.” Alex’s gaze darted past the drummer and onto the individual next to him, who was watching her with dark eyes. While Tommy was dressed to perform, this man wore a black suit, the top button tightly fastened despite the summer’s heat; whoever he was, he was important. “He’ll be out in a minute,” she repeated. _Luc—_ His grace swelled, sending goosebumps running down her arms, and Alex turned just as the doors behind her swung inwards. Lucifer stepped out onto the street with a flourish of his wings, and Alex sidestepped to avoid the glistening feathers. Her hand darted out to catch his wrist, and the cocky grin momentarily faltered. “Where the hell have you been?” she hissed, and a sharp yank had his eyes dropping onto her. “You just _left_ me in that hotel!” 

“I had business to attend to.” Lucifer’s hand grabbed hers, and Alex suddenly found his face mere inches from hers. “I hope you spent your time contemplating my question,” he murmured. “Because tonight … tonight is our night.” 

Alex’s wings quivered as his grace twisted around her, and her gaze dropped down. His hand was still tightly gripping her wrist, keeping her from drawing away, but the skin around the knuckles had blackened, peeling back around the edges.”Looks like you’re flaking.” She tried to yank herself free, but Lucifer’s grip was iron. 

His eyes, however, finally left her face, drifting down onto the sore. “It’s nothing.” His grace pooled, and the skin closed up over itself. “There. Like it never existed.” 

He turned to go, and Alex darted forward, positioning herself between him and the open limo. “Luce, your vessel —”

“Is fine.” The fire that flashed behind the archangel’s eyes had Alex stepping back. “As long as I don’t overexert myself, this vessel will hold as good as Sam.” He pushed past her, adding, “I don’t want to be late,” over his shoulder. With drooping shoulders, Alex followed, doing her best to hold back a glare as Tommy held the door open for her. 

Lucifer had already situated himself at the back of the limousine, spread out in the corner between Angela and the suited stranger. Between his legs and his wings, he occupied the entirety of the space, leaving Alex to settle down across from the strange man, her wings pulled in tight as she felt the weight of his inspection. “You must be Alex.” The man folded the leather book that lay in his lap, and the scrutiny disappeared behind a mask of warmth. “Russell. Tommy mentioned you might be joining us.” 

Alex shot the drummer a look, lips quirked in an apologetic smile; Tommy merely blinked before turning his eyes out the window. 

Silence fell as the limo lurched forward, and Alex buried her hands into her lap, gaze turned down as she watched Lucifer from the corner of her eye. His own attention was on the passing street, one hand propped up against the back of the seat as his fingers moved thoughtfully against his bottom lip. “I did as you requested.” It was Angela who broke the silence, and Lucifer’s eyebrow cocked. “We built this concert around an aura of mystery. Undisclosed location, a small select audience — of all new fans,” she hastened to add, and Lucifer’s head finally turned from the darkened window. “You already know my feelings towards how fickle a new audience can be, but so far, it seems to be paying off.” 

“Good.” The word was soft, almost purred, and Alex felt his grace rise and fall before it pushed against hers; the touch was so light it almost felt accidental had it not been for the way his eyes had moved across her before he turned to the rest of his companions. “I’ve had my fill of diehards. Tonight … tonight is about fresh blood.” 

Leather creaked as Tommy shifted in his seat, and Alex frowned to find his eyes were closed, his head tipped back against the seat; if she couldn’t see the heavy rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought him asleep. “Well, I’ve never seen so many crying emojis in my life.” Angela’s attention had dropped to her phone, and Alex slouched, doing her best to tune out the marketing talk. “The people who didn’t get in, they’re rending garments all over Twitter. Gossip blogs, social media, they’re all on fire speculating about the secret reunion show.” 

Lucifer hummed, his grace ebbing and flowing against Alex’s as he spoke. “And the winners?” 

“Thrilled.” 

“They’d be more thrilled if we had new music to sell,” Tommy muttered, and four sets of eyes turned in his direction. 

“What?” Russell’s head swung over to Vince before returning to Tommy, and Alex watched as his wide nostrils flared. 

The drummer drew in a long breath, and his eyes opened. “Well,” he said, his voice growing strong and scornful, “Vince was a no-show at the studio. Again.” 

Russell’s eyes darkened a shade, and his seat creaked as he turned his weight towards Lucifer. The archangel’s hand had fallen down to his side, and the gentle rise and fall of his grace had ceased. “The muse — guess she took the powder.” Russell’s teeth ground, and Lucifer shrugged. “Relax, Russell.” The words were spoken as a suggestion, but the glint in his eyes made it a command. “Tonight’s show? It’s gonna _kill_.”

Alex shifted at his inflection, and Lucifer’s eyes met hers. _You mean that figuratively, right?_ “I took a chance on you, Vince.” Russell spoke over her prayer. “An aging, well-past-his-prime buttrocker. You _will_ get in line.” 

Lucifer hesitated, eyes still on Alex, and when he turned away, the corner of his lips had quirked up into a look of amusement.“Or?” 

“Or I take it all back. Huh?” Russell’s threat had Tommy’s eyes flying open as he jerked upwards, but the man held up a hand to keep the drummer silent. “Check your contract for it,” he warned. “You don’t do what I say, I can bury Ladyheart. I _own_ you.” 

“Do you?” Lucifer’s head tipped, eyes crinkled at the edges, and he pointed towards Russell’s lap, towards the capped ballpoint pen that was resting atop his leather-bound book. His grace trickled out, chilling the inside of the limousine, and Russell’s eyes widened as his own fingers moved to the cap, unscrewing the top and tossing it aside to reveal the pen’s spade-shaped point. 

“What’s happening here?” Russell’s voice trembled, strained with fear and the exertion of fighting against his own muscles. His hands lifted the pen up, pointing the metal tip towards his exposed throat. “H-Hey, man.” 

“Vince, what are you doing?” Tommy scrambled up in his seat, his words raised above Russell’s pleas as the pen steadily drew nearer to its target. “Vince, stop!” 

Lucifer’s attention didn’t waver, but Alex hesitated, watching his face for any sign that this was nothing more than a ploy. The pen was mere inches from Russell’s throat when Lucifer’s grace paused, coiled up and poised to strike, and Alex finally threw herself forward towards Russell, her own grace pushing back against the pen. “Stop it!” she snapped, and she planted one knee on the seat between Russell and Tommy as she glared over at Lucifer. “What the hell are you doing? You _promised_!” 

The archangel’s grace twitched against hers, a poor, mocking attempt at struggling against her weaker hold, and the pen trembled as it slid forward another inch. “You didn’t seem to have an issue with it when I killed Mitch last night.” 

His grace hardened into stone, refusing to budge no matter how much of her weight Alex threw against it. “Mitch was a —” She cut off, head swinging around the cabin of the limo. “A _demon_ ,” she hissed, doing her best to hide the supernatural word as if there wasn’t a pen levitating an inch from Russell’s face. “This is different.” 

“Is it?” Lucifer shifted, drawing one leg up to cross the other, and he tipped his head to the other side. “Russell, why don’t you tell my mate who you work for?” 

Alex’s wings fluttered, her frown sharpening into a glare as her temper got the best of her. _I’m not your mate,_ she snapped,and the pen slid forward another inch. “D-Death Siren Records!" Russell's shaky cry filled her ears. "I’m an executive producer —”

“No, no, no.” Lucifer shook his head, exasperation darkening his features, and Russell’s face paled. “I mean — hey, hey, Russell, eyes on me.” Lucifer leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting. “Who do you _work_ for?” 

His grace twisted the pen, and Russell’s eyes snapped back to the tip. Alex grit her teeth as she felt her own grip weaken, starting to slip; a look into Lucifer’s face made it clear that he was barely straining against the full weight of her resistance. She felt Russell’s eyes turn across her, his body quivering with hesitation before he spoke. “Crowley, but I —”

Alex’s grace dropped away, and the pen plunged into Russell’s throat. His cry was lost beneath Angela’s scream. Tommy scrambled away with a strangled yelp as blood leaked from Russell’s lips as he thrashed about in his seat. Alex moved back to her own seat without a sound, and she folded her wings in as she settled back against the leather. “How long have you known?” Her voice was flat, eyes on Russell as his struggles faded into twitches, eyes glazing over as his life drained away. 

Lucifer’s grace brushed against hers as it retreated, twisting smugly along the way. “Long enough.” The limo rolled to a stop as Russell finally fell still, and Lucifer pushed himself out of his seat. “Well, see you all inside.” He clapped Russell’s corpse on the shoulder in passing, and Alex held back a sigh as his grace curled around her, drawing her after him.

Alex hesitated, and she shot Tommy a small grimace. Angela cowered in the back, but the drummer’s face had faded into stony apathy. “Sorry about that,” she muttered, and then she jumped out into the night. 

A crowd had gathered, and Alex shied away from the faces and cameras pointed her way. Lucifer had paused in front of all of them, hands outstretched as he basked in the spotlight, but Alex rushed ahead, hurrying through the back door as she drew her wings up to hide her from sight. “Who’s ready to have fun?” she heard him shout, and then she was out of sight. 

Cheers rose up over his words, and Alex pushed on until the sound faded away. Only then did she slow, and her wings fell back to her side. It wouldn’t be long before somebody would find the body. That thought had her feathers twitching, and Alex stopped in the fork in a hallway with a forceful huff. _That idiot._ Footsteps behind her had her stepping out of the way, and Tommy pushed by, his face darkened in pensive thought. “Tommy!” Alex rushed after him, but the drummer didn’t slow his fast-set pace. “Please wait.” 

“Have you seen that crowd?” A voice drifted down the hall, and Tommy immediately turned towards it, leaving Alex to sprint after him. “Man, I have not seen an audience this hyped since we headlined Monsters of Rock in ’91, man.” The voice belonged to Neil. He and Micky were seated in one of the rooms backstage. “And the girls? Perfect age —“ Alex’s appearance had him falling silent, lips parted in shock Alex dismissed him with a flick of her wing. 

Lucifer was approaching; Alex could feel him drawing near. His grace had swelled, prickling at her skin like electricity, and Alex turned as the door was flung open. “Well, well. What a crowd.” The door slammed behind him, and Lucifer wandered in, eyes slowly traversing across the well-furnished room. They lingered on a guitar resting in the corner; Alex cleared her throat, and his gaze snapped onto hers. “Are you ready for the show tonight?” He spoke loud enough for all to hear, but his attention didn’t waver from her. “I think you’ll like what I have in mind.” 

“Alex, be careful.” Tommy stepped up behind her, and Lucifer’s head snapped towards him. The intensity behind his gaze had Alex’s jaw clenching, but Tommy’s voice barely quavered. “This guy, he isn’t Vince.” 

His hand came to rest on her shoulder, firm and cautious, and Lucifer’s eyes darkened. “Get your hand off of my mate.” The humor had fallen away from his voice, and Alex felt Tommy’s grip tighten. Two steps carried Lucifer across the room. “I said —”

“Luce, stop it!” Alex took a step forward to meet him toe-to-toe, her chin tilted up as she glared into his narrow face. “As of right now, I am _not_ your mate.” She jabbed a finger into Lucifer’s chest, ignoring the chill down her spine as it rumbled in a low growl. “Stop calling me that!” 

She pushed her finger further into his sternum, and Lucifer’s hand jerked up to grab her wrist. “You don’t want me, do you?” His head dipped, mere inches from hers, and the smug glint in his eyes vanished as he searched her face. Alex’s gaze dropped downwards, and she felt Lucifer stiffen. “Leave us.” 

Tommy stepped away, and Alex listened as three sets of footsteps beelined towards the door. Someone muttered something — Neil or Micky Alex couldn’t tell — but they were quickly silenced by the other. “What’s your problem?” Only once the door was shut did Alex speak up. “Killing Russell, threatening Tommy — and this ultimatum you pulled out of your ass? What the hell?” 

“Russell was no better than a demon. He would have told Crowley where we were. And you …” The corners of Lucifer’s lips twisted into a frown. “However much you want to deny it, you are _mine._ Why do you keep fighting it?” 

“Fighting it? I’m not —” Alex stepped away, wings drawing in as she retreated to the other side of the room. “I’m just not ready.” Her eyes turned downwards, and one hand came to rest on her stomach where Castiel’s grace still resided, warm and tucked away. It had been easy to walk away from the angel, but to give up his grace? It would be like tearing out a piece of herself; the very thought of ripping it free made her stomach twist. How could anyone work up the courage to cut off their own arm? She felt Lucifer’s anger chill the air, and she spun around, eyes flashing with fire. “I’m not ready, and you — you’re not making this any easier! I hate it here! All the cameras and the crowds a-and that goddamn vessel that you keep running around in. You don’t even know what you’re doing!” Lucifer hadn’t moved, his arms crossed, and Alex bulldozed on. “You wouldn’t even have gotten this far if it wasn’t for me!” 

It was that last line, punched out into the empty air, that had Lucifer finally stirring. “Is that what you think?” He stepped forward, and Alex shifted back. “That this” — he motioned around to the room — “is all because of you. But what exactly have you done? Who knows how much higher I could have gone if I hadn’t been held down by you." Flames of anger flickered deep in his eyes, and Alex squared her jaw to keep it from trembling. “All of your little ‘rules’ that keep me from doing things the easy way. Maybe it’s time I do something on my own. Maybe it’s time I stop listening to you.” 

“You couldn’t —”

“Couldn’t what? I can do anything I want.” Lucifer’s wings rose as he came to stop in front of her, and one extended towards the closed door. “Out there, I have thousands of fans ready to throw themselves at my feet. A snap of my fingers, and they’ll give me anything I ask.” His fingers lifted, poised, and Alex’s breath hung in the space between them. “I’m the one out here making a name for myself.” 

“It’s not _your_ name!” 

“Not yet it’s not.” The fire in his eyes hardened into tempered steel. “But it will be, after tonight. Only question is, are you going to stick around to see it?” A push his wings closed the last remaining gap between them, and Alex had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “If you want to be my mate, then do it. If you don’t, walk away.” His voice dropped into a murmur that sent a chill through Alex’s grace. “I’m not Castiel. I won’t waste my time following you around like a lovesick puppy begging for scraps. And I won’t wait around for you.” His wing flicked back towards the door, more insistent this time before it stilled. His eyes searched her face, and Alex’s jaw trembled as his hand cupped her cheek. “I know you’ll come back. What you and I share, you can’t ignore it for long. Maybe some time apart will show you how much you really need me.” 

“Fine!” Was that her own voice speaking?

“Fine. I’ll see you soon, little one.” Lucifer turned away, and for a brief moment, Alex felt his grace quiver before it stilled into stone. 

Alex spun around and stalked out of the room, shaking out her wings to smooth her ruffled feathers and calm her trembling limbs. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she paused at the end of the hallway to catch her breath. Had that really just happened? Her feet scuffed against the floor, and for a brief second, she let her eyes turn backwards. She could walk back in there right now. 

Neil and Micky appeared around the corner, their whispered conversation dying at the sight of her. They skirted her on their way past, and Alex straightened up. “You shouldn’t go in there,” she warned — why was her voice so shaky? She was ignored, and Alex turned her head away as Lucifer’s grace exploded through the air. Two snaps, and two thuds. “Oh, Luce.” HIs grace thrashed about before it was reined back under control. “What did you do?” 

He wasn’t coming after her. The pit in her stomach had her gut twisting, and Alex forced her feet to carry her forward. She couldn’t feel Lucifer anymore; the hooks he had buried within her were gone, and all of a sudden she was distinctly aware of Castiel’s grace, unhindered by Lucifer any longer. She could feel him in the back of her mind, could see herself in the hall — wait. 

“Alex.” Castiel’s voice had her spinning around. “Where’s Lucifer?” He didn’t wait for a response; the moment the answer flashed through Alex’s mind, he knew.

“Cas, no!” One step took her after him before a hand slammed into the neck, pinning her against the wall. The air escaped her lungs in a breathy yelp, and it took Alex a second to regain her senses. “Get off me, Crowley!” she wheezed, and her grace rose up as she scrabbled against the demon’s hold; without Lucifer’s strength behind her, it was only Crowley’s mercy that had him stepping away. 

“The Winchesters are out on the stage trying to get all of Vince’s new fans to leave.” The demon’s eyes were chipped of broken glass. “If they see you, they won’t let you walk out.” He pointed towards the back door, but Alex didn’t budge, eyes narrowed as her wings rose threateningly. Crowley scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. They can’t stop him. We’re underarmed and under-prepared — typical Winchester style. They can’t see it, but we _need_ you out there.”

“Well, you’re a little late,” Alex growled. “We’re taking a break.” 

“Like _hell_ you are.” There was a shout and a crash, and Crowley turned towards the source. “Do your damn job, or I stop covering for you.” 

“Then stop.” Alex stalked away, leaving Crowley standing alone in the hall. She could hear voices up ahead, screaming and cheering, and Alex hesitated once out of Crowley’s sight. One voice was lifted among the others, woven among the chanting: Dean’s voice. Alex crept forward towards a side door that led into the auditorium, wings drawn in tight as she did her best to block out Castiel’s sight. He was grappling with Lucifer and rapidly losing ground — one quick blow from him sent Castiel flying across the room. Alex grimaced at the low phantom pain that ghosted up her spine, and she pushed open the door with a shudder. Maybe distance would less the sensation —

The fire alarms blared overhead, and Alex winced away from the screaming, flashing lights that sounded directly in her ear. There was a moment of panic in the swarming crowd around her, and then they, as one body, surged towards the double doored exit. In that second of emptiness, a figure became visible. It took Alex a moment to recognize him; the white shirt and black leather jacket seemed out of place on that tall frame, but the hair and the face were all too familiar. Their eyes met, and Sam’s mouth fell open as he froze in place. “Dean!” 

The shout hung in the silent air — in that brief moment of recognition, the fire alarms had abruptly ceased. Most of the crowd still remained on the floor, packed around the exits, but as the opening chords to _Bloody Messiah_ rang out through the speakers, their panic melted away into nervous laughs and a low, rising chatter. The lights dimmed as the music swelled, and Alex ducked into the crowd as she caught sight of Dean rushing towards his brother. She drew her wings in close, reaching back into her mind to see through Castiel’s eyes. It would be easy to hide from Sam and Dean among the rest of these people, but Castiel or Crowley would be able to spot her from across the room. 

Suddenly, the stage exploded into light, and Alex slid to a stop as Lucifer stepped out onto the stage. His eyes turned across the crowd, and even from where she stood near the back, Alex could see the growing delight upon his face. “Hello, L.A.!” He threw his arms open wide, and the room exploded into cheers that drowned out his words. “What a crowd!” His hand curled around the microphone as his eyes turned across the writhing crowd. “Look at all those fresh, new faces.” His eyes found Alex’s, and the wide grin faltered momentarily.

“I love you, Vince!” someone shouted from the crowd, and Lucifer’s eyes turned away. 

“Is everyone excited?” Cheers and whistles answered the question, and Lucifer’s grin returned. “Yeah, you should be! Tonight’s not gonna be a typical show,” he warned. “Tonight, you’re gonna see and feel things you never saw or felt before.” His eyes suddenly snapped back onto Alex, and the grin fell away, the smile in his eyes replaced with darkened intensity. “Things might get a little bit messy.” 

_Please don’t_. Alex reached out towards him with her grace, but it was quickly batted away. _Lucifer_. The plea of desperation had the archangel's eyes remaining on hers for a second longer, and his wings twitched as his speech hung in the air. 

It was broken by a single gunshot. The reverberations were immediately swallowed up by a cacophony of discordant screams, and Alex flattened her wings against her back as the crowd swelled, pushing away from the center of the room towards the exits. A voice rose among it, shouting, “He’s got a gun!” but Alex’s eyes had already swung towards the ceiling, where dust drifted down from a single hole in the drywall. A second voice had emerged — Sam’s voice — urging the panicked crowd towards the door, and Alex felt the air surged with a sudden chill. She spun back towards Lucifer as his grace surged outwards; the grin had fled from his face. His grace churned as it swept past her, twisting with a frantic determination. She turned with it, watching as the heavy doors started to swing closed, fighting back against the onslaught of fans.

“No! No, no, no, no.” Sam fought through the crowd and planted his hands on the doors, his voice strained as he fought back against Lucifer’s grace. His arms trembled, jaw clenched under the pressure. Lucifer’s grace was winning, gaining inch by inch, but Sam’s arms didn’t give out until the last frenzied fan had escaped across the threshold. Only then did he sag backwards, and the doors slammed shut. 

“Nuh-uh-uh.” Lucifer clicked his tongue, and the deadbolts clicked as he locked the door. “You —”

“Hey, assbutt!” Castiel’s shout was the only warning Lucifer had before the seraph launched himself from offstage. He held a guitar in his hands, gripped at the neck, and the instrument cracked with a sharp note as it hit Lucifer square in the nose. The archangel’s wings flared out, flapping twice to offset the force with which he was knocked back. The impact had the guitar shattering, sending bits of wire and wood flying every which way. 

Castiel followed a second later, caught off guard by Lucifer’s backhand, and Alex winced as he crashed into the drum set. She could feel his pain, a low ache settling deep within her bones, and she barely held back a groan as she shifted back a step. _Please stop fighting._ She wasn’t sure who the prayer was directed at, but it was Lucifer who answered. 

_I didn’t start this._ His hand outstretched as his grace spiraled past her, and Alex spun around on her heels to find Dean caught up in a woven shield of air, frozen mere inches from her face. “Hi, Dean.” He tightened his fist, and Dean gasped. A pair of warded handcuffs fell from his hand, clattering to the ground, but the sound was lost beneath Sam’s shout and Lucifer’s _tsk_. “Keep your hands off of her,” he warned, and although his eyes never left the Winchester, Alex felt his grace slid across hers. _Last chance._ Alex lifted her chin, and Lucifer’s grace pulled away — not just from her, but from Dean as well, and the Winchester toppled to the ground. “Although,” Lucifer said, “she no longer wants my protection.” 

Alex sidestepped, kicking the warded handcuffs away as her wings fell low. “Guys, can we just calm down? It’s just a misunderstanding —” 

She was ignored. Lucifer’s wings spread out as Dean threw himself forward, carrying him to the other side of the stage to avoid the sprawling Winchester. “Sam.” He acknowledged Sam with a nod. “Enjoy the show?” His arms spread wide, and Alex crept forward to the edge of the stage. The closer she drew, the more the ache in her shoulders grew, and she cast a quick glance towards Castiel. The seraph was struggling to his feet, tattered wings flittering with each jostled movement. Dean was doing the same, his eyes green fire, but Lucifer’s fingers pointed in his direction had him stopping with a glare. “Guys.” Lucifer’s eyes swept across the room, purposefully passing over Alex. “You know I could end you all with a snap of my finger?”

 _Luce_ — Alex stepped forward, but Lucifer’s grace seized her by the scruff of the neck, stopping her in her tracks. Her own grace rose up, begging him to let her go. 

“But why would I do that when you can’t do anything —” A glint of metal caught Alex’s eye, and Lucifer’s lips quirked in a frown as he whirled around just in time to deflect a blow from Castiel. He caught the seraph by the neck, lifting him up off of the floor as his nails dug into his throat. “To me,” he finished, and his wings arched up above his head as he tossed Castiel away. His grace receded from her, wrapping around Castiel to pin him down against the wooden stage, and Alex’s legs sagged before she could catch herself. Anger and fear raged through Castiel’s grace as he hit the ground, and Alex stumbled back away from the fray. She half-expected Lucifer to throw himself after him; she could see the rage flickering in his eyes, feel it churning through that band of ice that sat across Castiel’s chest, but his wings drew in as he turned away. _See, enay?_ His voice purred through her head. _I can be merciful without your supervision._

“Why are you doing this?” Dean spoke with a scowl, rubbing at his jaw, and Alex watched as his eyes flickered towards the discarded handcuffs.

Lucifer’s head tipped, and his eyes turned away from Alex. “Why?” 

“You and God made up.” Sam moved forward, and Alex immediately retreated to the other side of the room, far away from the Winchesters as possible. For the most part, she was being ignored, which was for the best; if it came down to choosing sides, Alex would choose to run. Her eyes flickered towards the closed doors. She could make it before the Winchesters caught up. “You forgave him.” Sam was still talking. “What would he think?” 

Alex paused as the air chilled. She could feel Lucifer’s grace roiling against Castiel’s, and from the shadows of the room, she turned. “I’m not particularly interested in his opinion.” His voice was as tight as his eyes. “Dear old dad, he finally apologized for abandoning me. And what’s the _very_ next thing he does?” His voice cracked, but the archangel made no attempt to steady it. “He _ditches_ me. And you too, by the way,” he added, forcing a laugh, and his wingtips twitched uncontrollably as he drew in a breath through his nose. “He just rides off into the sunset with Auntie Amara.” 

Alex’s feet carried her one step forward before she realized it, and Lucifer’s eyes snapped onto hers. Once again, his grace seized her, and her feet slid across the smooth floor as she was shoved back into the wall. 

“He just _left_ me,” he repeated, and he ripped his eyes away from her. “But that’s the way life works, isn’t it? People only stick around until they get what they want from you, and they’ll say anything to get it.” Alex gasped as his grace enveloped her lungs, and then it vanished, yanked away. “His words, their word, they mean nothing. Don’t you get it? This” — his arms spread wide, — “is all meaningless. Heaven, hell, this world. If it ever meant anything, that moment is passed. You want to know what my plan is?” His wings trembled, and Alex felt the vibrations of his grace travel through the air; something was wrong. His vessel was starting to shake as well, a barely perceptive buzz, but that didn’t stop the thin smile that tugged at his lips. “I don’t have one. I’m just making this up as I go, and if I get to smash some of Daddy’s already broken toys …? Lucky me.”

“Yeah?” Sam stepped forward. “Cause it looks like you’re falling apart.” 

Lucifer’s smile faded, and his grace withdrew from where it still pinned Castiel to the ground. The skin around his eyes was beginning to darken, the same lesions that plagued his hands creeping up to his face. “What can I say?” Lucifer’s voice was starting to rasp in his throat. “Kicking your ass took a lot out of me. But don’t worry.” The lesions had grown, his skin cracked and blackened, and the air trembled. “Onwards and upwards.”

The room exploded into light, and Alex stifled a shiver as the room froze over. Lucifer’s grace surrounded her as it fled its discarded vessel, and for a moment, Alex let her eyes drift close before she steeled herself against the embrace. _You know how to find me,_ she heard him hum, and then Lucifer was gone. 

The light faded, revealing Vince’s crumpled corpse upon the stage. Without Lucifer’s presence, Rowena’s spell raged full force, and the flesh shriveled away into blackened, smoking char. Castiel was struggling to his feet just beyond the body, rubbing at his head, and Alex did her best to push away the low ache that was resonating in her own skull. The door to her left was still barred, but if she could get there fast enough … maybe she could slip away unnoticed.

Too late. Dean’s eyes had already found her, so Alex went with her only option. She bolted. Her hands scrabbled against the handle, but even as it popped open she was ripped away, feet leaving the ground as she was tossed backwards. She flared her wings out, but the bare vanes did little to slow her fall, and the impact with the hard floor knocked the air from her lungs. “Dean!” That sounded like Sam, but the ringing in her ears occupied most of Alex’s attention as she rolled onto her hands and knees.

“Stay out of this, Sam.” Hands in the collar of her jacket yanked her upwards, and Alex’s eyes glowed blue as she drew up upon her grace. Castiel was approaching, and his own grace wrapped around hers, pushing it down until Alex snapped her eyes onto him. That was the moment of distraction Dean needed, and Alex barely held back a scream of frustration as metal cuffs snapped around her wrists. She yanked herself free from the Winchester’s hold, spinning around with a snarl on her lips, but she didn’t get a chance to speak. A fist was flying towards her face; the impact sent pain radiating up her nose, and blackness followed. The last thing she saw was the floor fast approaching before everything went dark.


	9. LOTUS

**T** he damp air tickled Alex’s nose, stirring her out of her sluggish sleep. Her eyes hurt, her nose ached — no, her nose _throbbed_ — and the molten ball of grace in the pit of her stomach did nothing but add to the nausea. Alex rolled her head back, stifling a whine as she blinked. The darkness was so thick, it made no difference if her eyes remained open or shut. She was in the bunker’s dungeon; the musty smell of stone and the stiff wooden chair beneath her was all too familiar. The handcuffs around her wrists had been looped through one of the chair’s arms, and Alex gave them a fruitless yank as she let out a wordless shriek of anger and frustration. “Dean!” She thrashed back and forth, but the chair was bolted to the ground. “Sam, please!” 

A thick, dry heat burned in her chest, and Alex fell silent with a whine. Without the chill of Lucifer’s grace within her, the air felt sticky and humid against her skin. _Luce?_ The prayer escaped before she could stop it, and Alex let her eyes fall closed. Look at her. Five minutes without Lucifer’s protection, and she had fallen back into the Winchester’s hands, and now … who knew how long it had been. Her wrists ached, the skin chafing against the metal cuffs, and she struggled against them until the ache turned into a hot, pulsing throb. “Sam!” She threw her head back in a scream, voice cracking, but the echoing screech gave away to silence. 

_Cas_ , she whined. _Where are you? Please, it’s dark._ The wards around her wrist stifled their bond, and Alex slumped over; she didn’t even know if she was getting through. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there in the dark. Minutes, hours — the time blurred together. But eventually, the bookshelves that hid the bunker door creaked open, and Alex turned her head away from the bright, burning light. Her grace rose up, but her skin was a cage, trapping it within her body. Footsteps approached, two or three sets mingling together, and Alex blinked rapidly to force her eyes to adjust as the lights flickered on above her head. The first thing she saw was Dean, towering over her with a scowl on his face. Sam stood just beyond, shoulders hunched as he watched his brother: his eyes never moved towards her.

“Comfy?” Dean was uncomfortably close, but Alex refused to lean back in her chair as she tilted her chin to find his eyes. 

“Could use a pillow or two.” The handcuffs jingled as Alex gave them a tug, rewarded by how Dean’s eyes turned down towards them. “Why don’t we just cut to the chase and you take these off of me, okay? You can’t keep me here forever.” 

“I’ll keep you here as long as I want.” Dean stepped back, and Alex caught sight of a flash of tan in the doorway. “Tell you what.” He planted a hand on the back of her chair, forcing Alex’s eyes back up onto him. “Tell us where Lucifer is, and when this is all over, we’ll let you out.” 

“Where he is?” Alex’s wings lifted, vanes rattling as she scowled. “You think I know where he is with _these_ on?” She jerked against the handcuffs, biting back a wince as their sharp corners dug into her skin. “I can’t even feel Castiel, and he’s not even ten feet from me! I can’t feel my mate, I can’t hear anyone’s prayers — I can’t feel anything except the cold and the damn pain of sitting in this fucking chair!” 

Dean’s eyes glittered, his face inching closer as he searched her scowling features. “Okay. We’ll come get you once we slam Lucifer back downstairs.” 

He stiffly yanked his arm back and spun around, and Alex threw herself forward with such force that the chair rocked against its iron bolts. “Wait!” Anger rushed through her chest, blooming across her cheeks, and she kicked out with her legs; the action had Dean grunting as her ankle found his shin. “You can’t just _leave_ me here!” _Can he?_ The anger ignited into panic, and Alex swung her head over to Sam, eyes wide. “What — what did I even do? It’s not — I didn’t try to stop you — hell, I made it a point to stay out of your way because —" She was running out of breath, and Alex drew in a sharp inhale through her nose. "Because this little squabble that you have with Lucifer, it’s none of my business!” she finished. Dean paused by the door, his jaw tightening, and Alex’s pitch rose, eyes sliding past the Winchesters and onto Castiel. The seraph hadn’t moved from the doorway, as still as stone. “What, you think keeping me down here is really going to help? I was _stopping_ him from hurting people, you idiot! I made him promise!” 

That last exclamation had Dean turning, and Alex jerked her head back as two long steps took him back to her side. “Right. Like he’s the kind of guy who keeps his word. “

“He is for me!” Alex’s wings flittered against her back, and she lifted her chin under the Winchester’s scrutiny. “I’m the only one here he’ll listen to and you — you’re just going to keep me in the dark? That’s _stupid_ , Dean, even for you! How many more are going to die because you —” 

“Guys, can we just stop fighting?” Finally, Sam stepped forward, hands extended as he put himself between her and Dean. Dean’s eyes flashed, and Sam turned to him, voice dropping into a murmur. “We can’t keep her down here for the rest of her life,” he said, and Alex had to strain to hear his words. “And it’s not like she can smoke out of here, not with those cuffs on. Let’s just let her up out of that chair. “

“The only way I’m getting out of here is on my own two feet,” Alex added, lips curled as she struggled to keep the scorn from her tone, “and last time I checked, you’re both faster than me.” 

“Not a chance.” Dean dismissed her with a sideways glare. “And no way. She made her choice, Sam, and she chose the dark side, so as far as I’m concerned, she’s no different than anything else we’d put down here.” His jaw ticked as Sam met his glare, unblinking, and for a second, silence fell as the two brothers faced off. 

“What’s the point of this, Dean?” Alex finally broke into the quiet, and her ragged feathers scratched against the bare concrete as she flapped her wings. “Why did you even bother coming down here? You could have just talked to Cas, and he would have told you that I have no way of knowing where Lucifer is, not with these on.” A quick look — barely a flicker of the eyes — over Dean’s shoulder showed Castiel, his head turned away, and Alex tightened her frown. _So Dean had spoken to him_. “So then what’s your damn play?” Her gaze snapped back up onto Dean, yanking on her chains; the metal dug into her raw skin, and the pain funneled her anger. “Did you just come down here to taunt me? To — to put me down and try and make me feel _bad_?” Dean's jaw ticked, teeth grinding together as his fists clenched at his side, and Alex leaned forward with a full-blown snarl. “Go ahead and hit me, Dean — I know you want to.”

Her words hung in utter silence, and Alex leaned back, refusing to tear her eyes away from his. Her cheeks burned, chest heaving; the room’s heatz coupled with the exertion of her anger, was becoming unbearable. She could see Sam’s hesitation in the corner of her vision, watching his brother with darkened eyes. His lips parted, but Dean beat him to words. “Don’t be stupid, Sam,” he growled out. The rasped rumble cut the tension like a knife, and Alex finally let her eyes fall off to the side. “I’m not going to hit her."

"Really?" Alex scoffed, scornful and petulant. "Well that's a change from last time."

"What did you want me to do? Drag you out of LA kicking and screaming the whole way? We never would have made it out of that nightclub, let alone out of town." He scrubbed one hand through his hair, finally turning back to Sam. "Don't say it, okay? I know Cas said this was a long shot, but it’s the only shot we had.” 

He turned away, and Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, a silent exhale falling from his lips. The moment was short-lived, and a second later, the Winchester’s face was once again hard and rigid lines. “Crowley still has his feelers out,” he reminded wearily. “Lucifer has to turn up eventually.” 

“ ‘Eventually’ isn’t soon enough.” Dean stepped towards the door, pausing just in front of Castiel, and a look passed between the two, a look that had Castiel’s wings shifting against the rough fabric of his coat. “I’m going to go dig through today’s news.” The words were spoken over his shoulder, directed towards Sam, and Alex glared sullenly down at the ground. “Maybe we missed something.” 

He didn’t wait for a response before he stepped out of sight. Alex felt Castiel’s eyes move across her, lingering on the reddened skin around her wrists, but by the time she finally lifted her head, the doorway was empty. “Are you okay?” Sam's words drew her gaze onto him, and Alex reined in her scowl. His face remained stern, but his eyes had darkened with hidden worry. For a moment, he didn’t speak as his eyes moved across her, lingering on her face — Alex wouldn’t be surprised if a bruise still marred the skin around her nose — before dropping down to her hands. She quickly turned her eyes away as he knelt in front of her, her wings twitching when his calloused fingers danced across the edge of her wrists. Alex hissed at the pain, and his fingers jerked away. “I’ll talk to Dean,” he said, rising back to his feet, and Alex grunted as he quickly dusted his hands off on his jeans. “And maybe, uh, get you something for that.” 

He stepped away, and Alex finally lifted her head. “Sam,” she started, and the Winchester paused, his shaggy hair outlined by the light above his head. “Look. Even if I wanted to help you, I can’t. What’s the point in keeping me here?”

“I’m sorry.” With a shake of his head, Sam stepped out of the room. The bookcase doors creaked shut, leaving her encased in concrete before the darkness took hold. 

**T** he darkness only accentuated the heat. Alex’s palms sweat against her will, but the extra moisture didn’t aid in her attempts at escape. For not the first time, the thought of breaking her thumbs crossed her mind, but she quickly, albeit reluctantly, pushed the idea away; Castiel would know the moment he felt her grace, and the Winchesters would be close on his heels. That thought alone had her nose throbbing, and she reached up to rub at it. The chains pulled taut, yanking her wrists back down into her lap, and Alex gave up with a sigh. 

Time had blurred back together, each second of darkness stretching into minutes, each minute into hours. Maybe even days. Dean had not returned, but Sam had, just as he had promised. The first time was with a foul-smelling salve, meant for her sore wrists, and the second was to chastise her for pulling on the cuffs. Judging by the change of clothes, the gaps in between his visits surmounted to at least two days of darkness. But those gaps had been short compared to this current one, no more than a blink of the eye — how long had it been now, and how long would it be before someone came for her?

A door slammed shut, snapping Alex out of her silent thoughts. That was nearby. “Hello?” The chair creaked beneath her as she leaned forward, ears pricked as she tried to pinpoint its source. “Hey! You!” Her rasping shout echoed off of the concrete walls, drowning out the metallic click of her bonds, but no answer came. “Hey!” Her voice cracked, and Alex threw herself back into her chair, eyes squeezed shut against the darkness. 

Another door creaked open: this one was much closer. Where were those footsteps? Her wings curled forward, brushing against the hard floor as her head tipped. Someone was on the other side of the bookshelves. _Please don’t let it be Dean._ That thought had her wings shaking out, bare-bone vanes rattling nervously. The footsteps were drawing nearer, and there was only one set. 

The first sign of light came as the doors unlatched, and Alex preemptively screwed up her eyes for the inevitable rush of brightness. Her wings drew back, crushed and ragged feathers cowering behind her chair, until the backlit figure stepped forward from the light. “Cas.” The tension left Alex's shoulders, wings drooping against the ground. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Her eyes slid past him, searching for any sign of companions, but the room behind him was empty. “What, did you come here to rag on me as well?” 

Castiel’s face was the definition of blank composure, but the faint shifting of his wings, as battered and broken as her own, gave away his discomfort. “Sam and Dean are still upstairs,” he said, stepping into the room, and Alex found herself reaching down within her, trying in vain to read his emotions through his grace: what was he feeling? Her fingers twitched, nails scraping against the small chains of her cuffs as Castiel came to stop in front of her. “Lucifer has been busy finding a new vessel." 

Alex grunted, eyes flickering across his face before dropping to focus on his tie. "You found a new trail of bodies, huh?" She watched as a grimace marred his features, and she frowned. "High profile people?"she asked, waiting for Castiel to nod before she swept her wings across the dusty floor. "He's got a taste for power and he wants more. How many bodies did you find?" 

"Two were vessels. One a businessman, the other an archbishop. We just got back from St. Louis." The frown on Castiel's face deepened, spreading until it darkened his blue eyes. "Lucifer slaughtered the entire archdioses. Sam and Dean think he acted in retaliation against the clergy who attempted to exorcise him." 

Alex cocked an eyebrow. "And you don't?" 

"Perhaps. But he left one alive for us to find. He wanted that priest to speak to us, to tell us what he had done. I think he was leaving us a message. About you." Something darted through those darkened eyes, a flicker of fear that had Alex's head tipping to the other side. "He's made it quite clear how he feels about you. I don't think he appreciates that we're keeping you here." 

_Unlikely_. Lucifer had made it clear that she wasn't under his protection until she came crawling back. "Well, just make sure Dean knows those bodies are on his head," she muttered, and her bonds rattled as she shifted in the hard wooden chair. "Why are you telling me this?" 

Castiel's eyes wandered, focusing on the wall behind Alex's right shoulder. For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only when Alex's chains clinked. The seraph's hand disappeared into his pocket, and when it reemerged, his fingers were tightly clenched around a silver key. "Dean is wrong. Whatever you were doing with Lucifer, it kept him from massacring those around him." The handcuffs fell away, clattering to the concrete floor, and Alex's grace crackled, rising up to the surface as the barrier that held it back melted away. Castiel's bond was there, as vivid as it had ever been, and Alex felt it twinge with frustration and discomfort before she tied a knot around her brain. "Leave through the garage. I'll tell Sam and Dean that you escaped while we were away." 

He stepped away, and Alex followed, rising to her feet with a graceful sweep of her wings. "Thank you." With the few inches that was between them, even her wall couldn't keep out the constant stream of thoughts that churned within the seraph's head. "You didn't have to do this for me, but I … I appreciate it."

The racing thoughts suddenly ceased, replaced with clarity. "You should go." 

Alex nodded, and she slipped past the seraph, her wings drawing back as feathers brushed against hers. The sharp rustle behind her signalled that Castiel had also recoiled, but Alex didn't feel him turn to watch her go. 

The first step out of the dungeon was a breath of fresh, cold air, and her feet carried her down the hall, leaping up the concrete stairs. Each footfall barely echoed off of the walls, but she still found herself pausing at the second landing. Castiel had said Sam and Dean were in the library, so she reached out with her grace to confirm. 

They were there, their voices a low, inaudible murmur, and Alex found herself weaving down the hallway, keeping her distance from the brothers until she found herself standing in front of the heavy oak door that separated her room from the rest of the bunker. Her fingers brushed across the golden inlaid NUMBER before dropping down to the door knob. One last thing before she left.

The room inside was dark, and Alex lifted her grace up to her eyes as she gently shut the door behind her. Someone had cleaned since she had last been there. The folded clothes she had left on the bed were gone, the dresser drawers neatly shut, and Alex let her eyes turn across the room before coming to rest on the small wooden desk in the corner. The shelf over it had been tidied up, her small collection of books and hunting journals leaned up against each other. Her gun sat in the center of the desk, confiscated by the Winchesters no doubt, but next to that lay a small envelope, the torn edges of a photograph peeking out from the top. That wasn't where she had left that.

Alex traced the corner with a fingertip, and she pulled the picture out just enough to see Bobby's smiling face. A pang of grief tightened her chest as she lifted the polaroid up to the dim light. Sam, his hair barely reaching his shoulders, with bright eyes and a boyish smile. Dean, with one arm slung across the shoulders of a young, grinning girl. Alex traced that round, child-like face. How had she ever been that young and innocent? Her eyes flickered up to the mirror against the far wall, wings twitching at the sight that greeted her. That child was gone: what stood in her place was a wolf, lean and wiry. Those grey eyes weren't soft anymore; now, they glittered with hunger. 

Alex turned away, and the picture fluttered back down onto the desk. Would Bobby even be able to recognize her anymore? So much had changed. 

Her eyes turned onto the dresser, and she shucked off her leather jacket as she pushed the reminiscing to the back of her mind. Castiel had promised to hold Sam and Dean back, but there was no promise for how long that would be. She needed to get going. Her jacket landed on the bed, quickly followed by her shirt, and Alex dug around for a change of clothes. A green jacket pulled over a grey plaid and black shirt sufficed, followed by her sturdy boots. Her gun stayed where it was: no need for that. A quick look around the room turned up her phone, fully charged and sitting on the nightstand — again, not where she had left it. Sam must have put it there.

When Alex stepped back out into the hallway, she paused, listening for any sign of the Winchesters. Dean was on the move; Alex knew those heavy footfalls anywhere. They were headed down the stairs, and Alex swallowed back her nerves as she skirted around to the other, smaller set of stairs. " _She must have escaped while we were out_." In the back of her mind, she could see through Castiel's eyes, staring at the empty chair. Dean stood beside it, his fists clenched at his side, and Alex almost tripped over the last step as he looked straight into Castiel's eyes. Into _her_ eyes.

Her broken wings flittered as she caught her balance, and she all but ran towards the garage door. " _She couldn't have gotten far._ " Dean was already pushing his way past Cas. " _The seat's still warm. We must have just missed her._ "

Alex screwed up her eyes, ready for the sun as she threw open the door and stepped out into the — the night. It was night. She stopped on the threshold, eyes stretched wide as she looked up at the half moon. The dark was the perfect place to hide. In the back of her mind, she could see Dean marching up the stairs. Sam was just ahead of him, standing in the landing, but Alex couldn't see his face. _I'm outside_. She sent the prayer along the bond to Castiel, and she only had a moment to feel his relief before it was swallowed up by nothingness. The window in the back of her mind vanished as his grace pushed her out from his head. Alex only let her displeasure show for a moment before she crushed the feeling; she could dwell on it when she was safely away from here. 

She started away from the hollow structure that sat above the bunker, cutting through the long grass as she headed northwards. There was a town only a mile or two out, near enough that she could reach it before the horizon grew light. Plus, the dip in the ground just ahead that would hide her well should the Winchesters come looking. All she had to do was lay low until they had come and gone. 

Part of her wanted to reach out for Lucifer, to call his name and have him come take her away, but the larger majority of her kept silent. She didn't need his help. Especially if that help came only a few days after her pronouncement of independence and subsequent capture. There was no point in trying to hide it; Castiel was right that Lucifer's slaughter was a message. But she could at least wait a bit before she approached him again. Her grace shifted restlessly within her, searching for Lucifer's comforting chill, and Alex skidded down the dirt hill with a barely-disguised snarl. She didn't _need_ him, no matter what he thought, no matter how much her grace reached for that empty space he had occupied. 

Light flooded from the bunker behind her, and Alex hit the ground in a tangle of wings and limbs. She lay there in the long grass, hidden from sight. There was a voice rising through the air — Dean’s voice — full of frustration, and Alex pressed herself closer to the ground. Should the Winchesters choose to climb that hill and peer down the other side, they would surely see her. She held her breath as she listened, desperately searching for any sign of approaching footsteps, but Dean’s voice had already begun to fade, and a moment later the light disappeared, sending the countryside back into darkness. 

Alex wasn’t sure how long she lay there, teeth grit against the grass that poked up through her clothes. Eventually she had to force herself to rise to her feet and scramble down the rest of the hill to start across the rolling plains. She could reach Lebanon long before dawn. And from there … from there, she would stay as far away from Lucifer until she could decide what to do.

**R** ain poured down from the South Dakota sky, soaking Alex to the bone. It bounced off of the cracked asphalt, seeping through her leather boots until the sloshed with each step she took. She clung to the side of the highway, and a gust of wind had her head ducking down to hide from the chill that stung at her ears. The darkened road occasionally lit up with the yellow glow of headlights as a car sped past; the bare broken vanes of her wings did little to protect her from the splashes.

She glanced off behind her, back towards the expansive swath of highway. The car she had borrowed from a mechanic’s shop in Lebanon had died half a mile back, and she had left it, abandoned, on the shoulder. 

A car sped by in the pouring rain, and Alex shielded her eyes against the iridescent brights until it had passed. There was a squeal of tires; Alex didn’t have to look back to know that the vehicle had swung around. She lowered her head as the car rolled up behind her, and she turned her collar up against the wind. _Whoop whoop._ Sirens sounded twice in rapid succession, and Alex reluctantly came to a stop as the cop car rolled up beside her.

The window rolled down, and Alex ducked her head to peer into the cab of the car. “Great.” Alex whipped her head around, hands shoved deep into her jacket. “How’d you find me?” 

“Local woman called in about a young girl wandering up 29.” The car shuddered as Jody Mills pressed down further on the brakes. “I was on duty and have something of a reputation with wandering teens, what between you and Claire and Alex — my Alex.” Once again the car shuddered, this time as it jerked into park. “Why don’t you hop in? Let’s get you out of this rain.”

“No thank you.” Thunder cracked over Alex's head, almost drowning out her words. “I don’t know what Sam and Dean told you —”

“Don’t worry about them.” Jody leaned over to unlock the door. “They didn’t put out an APB, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Undisguised interest lit up her eyes before it was quelled. “I’ll take you back to the station and let you warm up. You can’t just keep wandering around here at night like this,” she added, her voice growing brusque when Alex hesitated. “Don’t make me break out my handcuffs.” 

Those words had Alex wincing, and her hands instinctively rubbed at her wrists; her grace may have healed the chafed skin, but the memory remained. “I’d rather you not,” she muttered, and she yanked open the door to slide into the front seat. “I’m sure I’m probably the last person on earth you want to see,” she added, reaching for her seatbelt. 

She watched Jody from the corner of her eyes as she spoke. “Not even close, sweetheart.” The comforting words were undermined by the brisk tone, a hardness that immediately softened. “I’ve met a whole lot worse than you.”

“You know worse people than the devil’s bestie, huh?” Alex forced a chuckle, humor that died when Jody sighed. 

“How many years have we known each other? Almost eight now?” The engine revved as Jody pulled the car back onto the highway. “You’re not a bad person, Alex. Whatever it is that you’re doing here, I can’t believe that you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

Alex folded her hands in her lap, stifling a shiver as the warm air blowing from the vents hit her wet skin. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" There was a moment of silence before Jody hummed, and Alex rubbed her hands against her jeans. The question sat on the tip of her tongue, but it refused to go any further. After a moment, she managed to stutter out, “How — how did you meet Sean?” 

Jody gave a puzzled frown at her husband’s name. “Uh, we met at a friend’s party back in college. And then five years later, I arrested him and his buddies for camping out on the roof of this abandoned Hersey’s factory on the south side of town. He had the nerve to ask me out after posting bail.” The sheriff’s voice grew soft and distant, reminiscent of happier times. 

“And Crowl — uh, Roderick?” 

Those words chilled the car, and Alex turned her eyes out the window as a sign flew by. “Online,” Jody said, and Alex cocked an eyebrow at the bite to her tone. “Don’t worry, I’m never doing that again.” 

“Okay, but what, uh, what attracted you to him?” Alex reached out to fiddle with the vent, directing the air towards her face. “Uh, before he, uh — before he tried to kill you with a hexbag.” 

She dropped her gaze to her lap, wings twitching as she felt Jody’s eyes linger on her. “Well, he was charming, I suppose.” Jody spoke slowly, her voice low. “Very attentive. He seemed to care about me. I mean, until he tried to kill me.” She laughed, a single, scoffing sound that quickly faded into silence. “Why?” 

Alex picked at a hole in her jeans, rolling the frayed ends between her fingertips as she contemplated her next words. “What if … I mean, if he hadn’t tried to kill you … would you have believed it? That he actually cared?” The question was met with silence, and Alex’s fingers returned to her jeans, nervously plucking at the seam. “Or that he was at least capable of caring?” 

She watched Jody from the corner of her eye until the sheriff heaved a heavy sigh. “All I know is that Crowley was using me to get to you guys,” she finally said, and Alex’s eyes closed. “Why do you —”

“Nothing. Just making conversation.” Alex’s attention turned up towards the sky, teeth digging into her bottom lip. Her grace curled up inside of her, scouring along Castiel’s bond in search of Lucifer, and she pulled back with a sigh of her own. “I’m just … thinking out loud.”

She wasn’t prepared for the hand that came to rest on her knee, staying only long enough to give one quick squeeze before it pulled away. “You know, people only show others the side that they want them to see. Sometimes, it’s hard for people to see the good when all they’ve been shown is the bad.” _And vice versa_. That unspoken addition clung to the air, and Alex’s toes curled in her boots. “So … dare I ask why the Winchesters would be looking for you?” 

“Same as last time, I’m afraid. Exactly the same.” Alex rubbed at her wrists. “They want to know … you know, where Lucifer is, and I told them I couldn’t help. Literally. I have no idea where he is.” The lights of Sioux Falls came into view through the downpour, illuminating the blackened sky, and Alex sunk further into her seat. “You can just let me off at the bus station,” she mumbled. “I’m just heading west.” 

“Not a chance.” Jody’s brusque voice had Alex’s stomach plummeting, and she drew her shoulders back defensively as her wings prickled. “We’re going back to the station, and once I tell Mueller that everything checks out, you and I are going back to my place. I think I have a change of clothes that’ll fit you.” The sheriff looked over at Alex, and the pensive frown faded away. “Don’t worry. Claire and Alex — my Alex — are down in Omaha for a Mumford & Sons concert. They won’t be back until tomorrow night — tonight,” she corrected, glancing at the clock, and Alex did the same. 3:17 am. “The least I can do is give you a hot shower and a warm meal before I send you on your way. _And,_ ” she added after a moment’s pause, “if you do, I promise I won’t tell Sam and Dean you were through here.”

Alex turned her eyes out the window with a thoughtful hum. A few hours’ rest, far from the Winchesters’ reach, couldn’t hurt. Best case scenario, it could even shake them from her tail. “You drive a tough bargain, Mills. I’m not sure I have much of a choice.” 

Wryness twisted her words, but the sheriff either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Like hell you do.” She guided the car around the corner, and the Sioux Falls Police Department came into view, the floodlights cutting through the sheets of rain. “Alright, five minutes inside, then we’ll go home.” The brown and white sedan pulled up into the parking lot, and Jody turned to face her as the engine died. “You wanna wait inside or in here?” 

“I’ll come in.” Alex’s hands were already on the door handle, and her eyes narrowed against the downpour as she stepped outside. Somehow, the five minute drive had already started to dry her out, and the return to the rain had her shuddering. She glanced over at Jody Mills, concern painting her features as the woman hurried towards the door, her shoulders hunched against the cold. She was already soaked. Alex’s wings extended towards her, but she was quick to draw the weathered, useless feathers back. They dragged across the wet pavement as she trailed after the sheriff, following her through the front doors and into the lobby. The front desk was lit but unoccupied, and Alex rubbed at her sleeves as she waited for Jody to unlock the door leading the way into the station. 

“You’re back.” A fair skinned, thickset individual was leaning against one of the desks, a cup of coffee in his hands — black. The smell of it filled the room, bitter and sulphuric. “That who Marie saw walking 29?” 

“Yup. Chris, you remember Alex, right? Not my Alex — Bobby’s Alex.” 

“Right, right.” Chris Mueller's eyes swept across her, and the corner of his mouth twitched downwards. “Singer’s girl. It’s been a long time since you’ve caused any trouble around here.” His gaze swung over to Jody. “Mind if I take her back to room B? Charlie’s out investigating a car on route 29 that’s matching the description of a stolen vehicle out of Lebanon, Kansas.” 

Alex felt Jody’s eyes on the side of her head, and she chanced a look up at the sheriff’s disapproving frown. With Chris standing on her other side, all Alex could do was offer up a shrug. Jody’s chest rose and fell in a sigh. “Ten minutes,” she said, moving past Alex to poke Chris in the sternum. “Then I’m taking her home to warm up.” 

With a shrug, Alex followed after Chris Mueller, hands shoved deep into her damp pockets. The interrogation rooms were set towards the back of the station, and Alex shrugged her jacket off to hang it over the back of the chair, wings flicking as she heard the door shut behind her. “So,” she began, turning just in time to watch Chris lock the door, “is this some sort of good cop bad cop routine, or did Crowley put you up to this?” 

Chris’ eyes flickered black, and for a moment his true face shone through, scarred and warped with agony. “Little bit of both, I suppose.” He planted his hands on the back of the other chair, and metal scraped against concrete as Alex pushed her own seat back to toss her legs up onto the table. “Crowley set up a perimeter around Lebanon in case you got out."

"Wait." Alex immediately let her feet fall back into the floor, and she leaned forward. "You've been following me since Kansas? Why'd you crawl out of the woodworks here of all places? That highway was empty — you could have nabbed me at any point. Why now?" 

"I had to make sure you were alone." The way the demon's eyes darted towards the door made it clear who he had worried was about. Lucifer. Alex's own eyes drifted up to the buzzing florescent lights, frowning as she did so. Crowley was apparently keeping tabs on her: was _he_? "Don't bother trying to reach him." The demon's words had Alex's gaze falling back down. "No prayers are getting in or out of here." He stepped away to pace the length of the room, and Alex's eyes found the geometric rune behind him, written in white chalk against the grey stone. "I've never met Lucifer — and I never plan to, okay? — but with everything I've heard about him and you, I took a few precautions."

 _Heard_? "I forgot how much you demons gossip." On instinct, Alex's wings curled forward, and she swept them back. "What sort of rumors are you talking about?" 

"Not so much rumors, more of advice. Never get in between a hungry dog and its meal." Chris scoffed, and he turned to start back towards the door. His eyes found hers, and he paused. "I thought you two were supposed to be joined at the hip." 

Alex flicked a wing, dragging her broken feathers across the smooth tiles. "We're taking a break." 

"Allegedly." A low, smooth voice came from the corner of the room, and Alex's wings instinctively dropped, her head swinging to the left. Lucifer stood in the corner, leaned up against the brick as he studied the mounted black camera. "It looks like someone broke this," he hummed, pensively fingering the frayed wires. Alex turned back around as his eyes left the camera, the facade of thoughtfulness falling away to reveal a darker glint. "Guess big brother isn't watching." 

"Lucifer." Chris' feet carried him back a step. "I thought — she just said you two —” 

Alex stared at the table as Lucifer stopped at her side, one hand planted against the back of her chair. “I know, I know. She’s got some crazy ideas in that head of hers, doesn’t she?” The words, spoken in fondness, carried a hint of mocking that had Alex’s feathers ruffling. “But you, _you_ take the cake.” Lucifer’s wings snapped out, propelling him forward past the table to grab the demon by the throat. “This was just stupid.” 

“Lucifer.” Alex thrust her chair back as she jumped to her feet, and the metal legs squealed as they scraped against the floor. The archangel’s head turned towards her, and Chris’ hands scrabbled against the fingers that held him up above the ground. _What are you doing here? How did you find me? How did you find_ that _vessel?_ Questions flooded through her brain, crowding her tongue, and Alex settled for a glare. Lucifer’s gaze moved across her, silent and curious, and Alex’s eyes flicked towards the drawn sigil before returning to the demon. He couldn't hear her thoughts “Don’t hurt that vessel,” she finally settled on saying. “I, uh … he works with Jody.” 

Lucifer’s teeth flashed in a white grin, and his wings folded in as he set the demon back on the ground. “Well, today’s your lucky day,” he said, smoothing down Chris’ shirt. The smile vanished. “Now get out of my sight.” 

The demon waited only a second before he fled, head thrown back as black smoke poured from his mouth. The vessel crumpled to the ground as the smoke spiraled through the air and into the duct above their heads. Lucifer’s eyes met hers and, with a snap of his fingers, the edges of the vent exploded in a fiery red glow. “What are you doing here?” Alex spoke up over the demon’s disembodied scream that echoed through her mind — her eyes flickered towards the door with a frown; hopefully Jody hadn’t overheard. 

“Doing here?” Lucifer’s words drew her attention back onto him. “If that’s your idea of gratitude, _enay_ …” The deep, throaty chuckle that followed felt out of place for Lucifer’s demeanor, and Alex’s eyes turned from his face down to the rest of his vessel. Square-jawed, blue-eyed, tall and suited. A first glance may have considered him attractive, if not for …

“Oh my god.” Her interjection had Lucifer frowning. “That’s Rooney. You … how … you’re possessing the President of the United States?” Somehow, she managed to splutter the words out. 

“Do you like it? I just picked him up last night.” Lucifer looked past her to the one-sided mirror, and he grinned. “He’s strong, stable. And younger than Vince was.” He stepped forward, and Alex pinned her wings up against her back as he drew nearer. “That’s what you wanted, right?” 

The way he circled around the table reminded Alex of the way a cat corners its prey, and her breath hitched, feathers stretching out as she fought to keep her wings from falling low. “What?” she snapped, forcing anger into her voice. “You thought I’d just come crawling back because you hopped into a new body?” The smirk on Lucifer’s face had her faux vexation replaced with real indignation. “I told you to stop going after public figures! The Winchesters are pulling every string they can reach to find you, and you’re wearing Jeff Rooney? Why don’t you just put a sign in the front yard that says ‘hey, I’m in here’?” 

“I’m sure they’ll come after me.” Lucifer leaned against the table, and Alex retreated back towards the wall. “But how close can they get?” His smile faded as he watched her draw away, and his fingers clenched around the edge of the table. “How long before you give up on this game, little lamb? I’m getting tired of its premise.” 

“It’s not a game!” _Yes it is_. Alex crossed her arms, lips pursed as she forced herself to look into Lucifer’s eyes. “Why are you following me around? Don’t you have something better to do?”

“I told you I wasn’t going to chase after you anymore.” Alex felt her heart drop, but she hid it with a scowl. “But I won’t let you fall into Crowley’s hands.” Lucifer pushed himself to his feet, and he drew himself up to his full height, one hand going to toy with the knot in his tie. His voice dropped low, losing its rigid tone. “You’ll have to make up your mind soon, Alex. I have more than one suitor ready to throw themselves at my feet.” 

“Yeah right.” Alex’s wings swept out, primaries spread wide. “Why are you gonna do? Take one of them as your mate just to spite me?” She scoffed even as she felt her stomach flip up into her chest. _He wouldn’t dare_. Her feathers started to bristle, and she flared her wings up until they arched up above her head. “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“We're not mates. What does it matter to you?” 

“It doesn’t! Do whatever the hell you want. See if I care!” Alex tilted her chin up as Lucifer glided forward, jaw clenched as she found herself backed up against the wall. “Did you just come here to boast?” _Chase me_. That thought, unbidden, jumped to her mind. Her tongue darted out to lick at her lips, and for a second, she wished the archangel was in her head to overhear. _If you want me so badly, prove it._

A hand came up to her cheek, the calloused pads of his fingers hovering over her smooth freckled skin. “You know where to find me.” 

And then he was gone. Alex’s wings curled forward towards the open air, her grace aching despite the frustration that burned her cheeks. He hadn’t even _touched_ her. Not with his hands, not with his grace. And he had done it on purpose. Alex clenched her fists and pushed off from the wall, her wings flapping twice as she snarled. Other suitors? She scoffed. He was bluffing to get her to run after him. Again. The thought of revenge passed through her head, an idea quickly dismissed as her eyes fell onto the pair of legs just visible from beyond the table. Lucifer wouldn’t hesitate to put a hole in the chest of whatever unlucky soul she chose, no questions asked. 

From the ground, Chris was beginning to stir, and Alex crossed the room to kneel at his side. Lucifer had left him alive — _at her request._ Anger bubbled up under her skin. And Dean had thought she wasn’t doing any good. Chris’ eyes flickered open, pupils dilated as he stared blankly at the tile ceiling, and Alex shook off the anger to replace it with a veneer of frantic concern. “Are you okay?” She placed a hand upon his forehead, her grace snaking through his limbs, and she frowned. “You just collapsed on the ground and started shaking. I — I think you had a seizure.” She opened her eyes wide, emulating panic as she pulled away. He was fine. “How do you feel?” 

“I …” Chris pushed himself up until he was sitting, and Alex rocked back onto her heels as he rubbed at his temples. “I feel dizzy. The last thing I remember is getting up to make coffee, and then …” Chris’ eyes swept past her then snapped back. “A-Alex? What are you doing here?” 

Alex was saved from a response by a knock on the door, and she looked up just in time to watch Jody step into the room. It took the sheriff a moment to take in the scene in front of her before her eyes opened wide. “What the hell happened here?” 

Alex wasted little time in repeating her lie, adding, “You should get him over to County General to have someone check him out.” Leaving Chris on the floor, she headed towards the door, sidestepping Jody as the sheriff pressed her phone up against her ear. Their eyes met, and Alex ducked her head, muttering, “I’ll grab him some water."

She kept her promise, retrieving a bottle from the fridge in the break room, but she only stuck around long enough to make sure Chris took a drink before she slipped back away, grabbing her damp jacket from the chair and ducking to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Jody’s voice stopped her before she could step out into the night. Alex paused, one hand on the metal bar, and her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh as she turned around. “What happened back there?” Jody stepped forward, and Alex reluctantly did the same, stepping away from the door. “What did you do?” 

_Do?_ Alex’s feathers bristled. “I didn’t do anything,” she protested, and she took a step closer as her voice dropped into a hiss. “It was demon possession, okay?” she muttered. “Crowley’s after me for some reason or another, which means it’s time for me to go.” _What reason?_ Alex scrubbed at the back of her neck, some of her frustrations melting away as she thought. Crowley wouldn’t dare try and grab her, not while Lucifer was out there — besides, he was the one who _wanted_ her on the loose. What was his endgame? She reached over the front of the reception desk, digging around through the basket of pens until she found a black marker. “Lucifer taught me something a long time ago, from the last time Crowley was hunting me down. It might not be able to hide me entirely, but it’ll mask my wings and my grace. If I’m lucky, no one will notice me if they don’t look too closely.” She tore the cap off with her teeth and pressed the cold marker tip into the skin of her wrist, replicating the sigil to the best of her memory with smooth, unbroken strokes. The moment the last curved line fell into place, the sigil flashed white. Alex curled one of her wings forward to see that the feathers; though still visible to her, were hazy, almost blurred. “There.” She tossed the marker back onto the desk with a satisfied nod. “That’ll have to do.” For the first time, she noticed the folder that was clutched in Jody's hands. "What's that?" 

"Nothing. It's, uh, it's nothing." With a shake of her head, Jody dropped the folder onto the corner of the desk, just out of Alex's reach. "I was hoping you would have had time to help me with something, but if you have to go, go. I'll have Sam and Dean take a look at it."

"What?" That was the last thing she needed. "You mean you have a case?" Alex slowly stretched forward to grab the folder, eyes searching Jody's face for any sign of dishonesty." "I mean, if it's a simple salt and burn or like a vamp nest that needs to go, I can take care of it tonight." _Anything to keep the Winchesters away_. Her wings twitched in excitement before she could still them; a quick hunt might be just the thing to unleash her frustrations, but … part of her hoped Jody would say no. Something complicated might distract the brothers long enough to give her a few days headstart.

"It's definitely a case, but I have no clue what I'm dealing with. Whatever it is, though, it likes to keep its prey alive for days. The victim was missing for almost a week, but when he was found, the coroner said he'd been dead for less than eight hours. Some hitchhikers found the body a mile south of Saddlebrook farm." Jody nodded towards the folder, and Alex flipped it open. "By all accounts it looks like a vampire, but I've never seen bite marks like those before." The top photo was a close up of a cadaver's neck. There were four distinct punctures, all grouped close together in an upper and lower bite. A second, smaller set of bruises lined the holes on either side. A very distinctive bite indeed. "It's almost like a snake bite —"

"It's a vetala." Alex closed the folder with a shake of her head. "Or, vetalas. They usually hunt in pairs, although sometimes you'll see a larger pack. How many bodies?" 

"Just one." 

"And you think they're holed up at Saddlebrook?" When Jody nodded, Alex dropped the folder beside the discarded marker. "Yeah, I'll hit up the farm on my way out of town. Vetalas are tricky, but nothing I haven't handled before …" A flash of crimson in the corner of her eye had Alex stepping back, and the cocky confidence drained away, leaving her cheeks pale. Had that been real, or just a figment of her mind? Her grace snapped out like a whip, but all it found was human souls and empty air. Her faltering didn't go unnoticed, and Alex scrubbed at her temple. Maybe she was starting to lose it. "I'll, uh, I'll let you know what I find," she mumbled, and then she hurried out the door. 

**A** stolen car from two blocks away took Alex up through the north of town and back onto the highway. The road was dark, void of life at the early hours of the morning, but it wasn't long before the wooden, leaning structures of the abandoned Saddlebrook farm came into sight through the morning fog. _Saddlebrook Estates, est. 1931,_ a wooden sign read, the paint faded and peeling. A dirt road sprouted off from the pavement, and Alex guided the rusted sedan onto the rocky stretch, killing the headlights as she did so. She let the car roll forward at its own speed, only killing the engine when the grass rose high enough to conceal the vehicle from sight of the main road.

The old buildings lay a hundred feet further up the old driveway, dark and quiet, but Alex still moved slowly to avoid any noise as she slipped from the car and onto the overgrown road. If she were lucky, any creature residing there would think the rusted splutters on the engine, already quiet, was nothing more than a passing car.

Her grace made her approach silent, a shadow in the night; only her angel blade, dropped into her hands as she neared the barn, gave any indication of her presence as it caught in the thin moonlight. She paused at the broken doors, rotted at the hinges, and her grace rose up to her eyes as she peered inside. A rusted tiller sat in the corner, a leather harness hanging from the yoke, and the remnants of the bottles and cigarettes littered the dusty floor. Alex flared her nostrils as she inhaled. The metallic tang of blood clung to the air, little more than a faint hint. Perhaps a fox had dragged its kill in here to eat in peace, or maybe it was something more malevolent. Impossible to tell. And whatever it was, it was no longer there. 

Alex stepped away, unable to stop her wings from flicking distastefully. If the vetalas had been here, there was a good chance that they had already moved on. 

The leaning house lay maybe twenty yards to the left, and Alex slunk towards it, wings drawn in as she clung to the shadows. She could see the front door up ahead, barely hanging upright but still somehow pulled shut. Beneath her feet, the porch groaned and creaked, and Alex hesitated on the threshold, listening for any signs of life, before she nudged the door open.

The first thing she noticed, even before her eyes had adjusted, was the unmistakable stench of warm, freshly-spilled blood. The second thing was the body, half-hidden by the shadows. The pooled blood shone silver where the thin strips of moonlight, filtering through the boarded windows to crisscross the dusty floor, caught them. One of the stripes illumined the corpse's face; the mouth was twisted, frozen in a snarl, and even though the eyes had glazed over with the fog of death, the undisguised sheen of hatred lingered still. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth, staining the cluster of needle-like fangs that protruded from her gaping jaws. 

She was a vetala. Alex crept closer, a sudden wave of unease running down her spine. The source of the blood came not from the mouth, but from the hole torn clean through the vetala's chest. The flesh was mangled, glistening red, and Alex sharply exhaled through her nose to chase off the smell of death as she stared down at the corpse. Blood decorated the rotted walls, mixed with chunks of skin and guts. Who could have done this?

She crept further into the house. The rooms were cold, so much cooler than the air outside that it had Alex's grace quivering as she reached the end of the hallway.

The vetala in the entryway had been placed there for her. That much became immediately clear as she stepped into the living room. A second corpse lay at her feet, the rage of his dying breath still etched into the bloodless lips. The body lay flat, chest down, but the eyes, no more than burnt and empty sockets, stared up towards the heavens. Beyond that lay a third —or, at least, parts of a third; an arm had been ripped clean off, and a ragged stump sat where the head once had — and only a few feet further away lay the fourth body, splayed face down at the foot of a wooden chair. 

The chair was occupied. Alex's wings crept upwards, feathers fanning out threateningly as she stared at the man seated in the center of the carnage. Lucifer had one foot planted on the shoulders of the corpse, and in one hand he held a vetala's head — presumably from the third. His free hand was toying with the fangs, moving the jaw up and down in almost a comedical fashion. He didn't look up at her arrival, but his fingers did pause. "Hey." Lucifer tossed the head over his shoulder, and it landed on the floor with a wet thump. "Come on in."

Alex didn't move from the doorway, but she did nervously twist her weapon in her hands; Lucifer's head turned as the silver caught in the moonlight. "What are you doing here?" 

"What does it look like?" Lucifer spread his arms out, and he rose, feathers rustling as his wings settled against his back. He stepped over the body at his feet without so much as a glance, and Alex lifted her chin as he approached. "You were right, by the way. They were vetalas. I killed three of them." _Three?_ Alex's eyes darted around the room, tallying up the corpses. They landed on the fourth, the one now behind the devil, and he followed her gaze. "He was their meal, I imagine. He saw my face, and after all of this," — he motioned around the blood-splattered room — "he had to go. I mean —"

" _Lucifer._ What are you _doing_ here?" 

Lucifer's lips pursed into a frown, almost petulant in nature, and he stopped in front of her. "Hunting." The answer was innocent and plain, so much so that it almost sounded mocking. "You seemed to enjoy it so much I thought, why not give it a shot myself." He glanced behind her, and Alex let her eyes flicker across his vessel; his white oxford was rolled up to the elbows, and blood stained his large hands. "I gotta say, I had a good time." 

"I told you to leave me alone!" Alex's wings exploded outwards, and it was all she could do to stop herself from stomping a foot in frustration. "What the hell are you doing, following me around like this?" _And killing them all before me. Asshole_.

"Vetalas are tricky creatures. It takes an expert touch to handle them properly." Lucifer stepped away, and Alex moved after him, her eyes stretched wide in indignation. 

"I _am_ the expert!" she insisted; her voice cracked as rushed forward to circle around Lucifer, forcing him to stop short before he walked right into her. "I'm a hunter, and I'm more than capable of killing a couple of — a couple of vampire knock-offs!" This time, she did stomp her foot, regardless of how childish it appeared. "You just did this cause you're pissed at me! That's it, isn't it? I'm not gonna just roll over for you, so you're going to make my life a living hell!" 

Lucifer's eyes hardened, and Alex's feet carried her one step back. She wanted to push him, but by the look on his face, that may have been too far. "Hell?" he repeated, and the hairs on the back of Alex's neck prickled as he stepped forward. "You really think this is hell? _This_?" He scoffed, and Alex fought the urge to look anywhere else but his face. The humor was long gone, replaced with hardened ice. "If you want to see hell, I can show you hell. How long do you think you'd last, little one? How many days before you're begging for me to ease your suffering?" His voice had dropped, a murmur in her ears, but to Alex, they seemed to pound through her skull as loudly as her heart. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped; no words made it past her dry throat. The expression on her face, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, had Lucifer's gaze softening ever so slightly. "Don't look so worried, _enay._ " His wings flicked in … amusement? "We both know it won't come to that. But be thankful I'm pursuing your jealousy, not your blood."

 _Jealousy_? Alex snorted. He had already tried that angle back in LA. How much further could he possibly push it? She eyed the archangel carefully, but his face was unreadable, and she resisted the urge to reach for his grace. If he was still seeking out her jealousy, then he knew she hadn't meant it when she had stormed off backstage. He knew this was just a game. But what rules was he playing by? "I appreciate that," she said dryly — well, as dryly as she could manage with her voice threatening to shake; a deep breath through her nose seemed to quell it. "But I don't know why you'd think I'd be jealous — jealous for what?" That didn't make sense. With the reek of blood in the air, with the way Lucifer was watching her, the amusement in his eyes — still! What did he find so funny? — it was hard to think straight. Any hopes that the mistake had slipped by was dashed by the faint smirk, there one second, gone the next. Damn him!

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him off, but a groan from within the house had her head snapping to the side. "Oh, right." Lucifer stepped away, and one wing flicked off towards the source, a flash of glittering crimson. The groan came again, a mixture of rage and anguish. "I made sure to leave one for you. Better hurry before he gives up and dies on his own." 

"You —" Alex went to jab Lucifer in the chest, but the archangel easily sidestepped the attack. "Stop following me around! Stop taking my kills, and stop — agh!" She ended in a scream of frustration as Lucifer vanished, leaving her standing alone in the dark room. "I hate you!" 

The words bounced off the chipped and peeling walls, and Alex flinched at the sour taste it left in her mouth. He was an idiot, playing an idiotic game — what, did he think that by standing just out of reach that he could entice her to throw herself after him? _He_ was supposed to come after _her_! Another scream bubbled up, and she grit her teeth to keep it in. Castiel's grace was stirring, shifting in clear discomfort, and Alex spun around, lashing out with a snarl. Her fist collided with the brick fireplace, but her own grace numbed the pain, knitting together the soft tissue that had split under the impact. Oh well. The moment of discomfort was already fading, taking with it some of her anger. Not much, but just enough for her to regain control. _He thinks he's going to win_. That unwelcome thought rushed through her mind, joined by the memory of that smug smile, and Alex's weapon fell back into her hand. She could be just as stubborn as that wool-headed — that groan came a third time, softer this time, and feathers rattled as Alex shook out her wings. That vetala was dying, and it was dying quick — Lucifer was just going to have to wait.


	10. LOTUS pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing last week - I ended up throwing out the entire ending of this chapter and rewriting it, which took a lot longer than I had expected. Anyways, this is the last chapter for a while until I get the rest of the season done: unfortunately, between work, relationships, and general life things, I only have a few hours a day to write. But, fortunately, I have a pretty detailed outline that I'm following so I get to skip the planning stage. 
> 
> As always, thank you for sticking with me and reading along!

**T** he two weeks that followed Lucifer's appearance in Sioux Falls were full of directionless travel, weaving back and forth across the states. Or so Alex had thought. No matter what road she chose, no matter what town she passed through, every night she found herself further east than the night before. Closer to Lucifer than the night before. Even the days that she followed the sun, even when she set her sights westwards, something always pulled her back east. A highway here, closed by falling rocks from the surrounding mountains, the hint of a case there — it all drew her towards the sunrise. It was almost a relief the morning that Sam had called her. Despite Alex's hesitations, she had answered and listened to his pleas for her to meet him in Kansas. No Dean, he had promised. Just him and Cas. Just to talk. And again, despite her reservations, Alex had accepted. Finally, she had a reason to travel east.

And so two days later, Alex found herself standing in the parking lot of the rustic Faybian Motel. The unease that had followed her up Interstate 40 had been minimal, little more than a prickle in her wings; the discomfort was well worth the relief of no longer fighting the urge to turn her head eastbound. But now, as she stood on the cracked paint that decorated the asphalt, that unease had returned tenfold. And for good reason. 

The Impala lay in front of her. Alex’s wings, pale and translucent, flittered as she eyed the gleaming black paint. Sam had said he and Castiel were there alone; but what were the odds that the Impala was somewhere Dean wasn’t? _I’m here._ Alex lingered by her stolen truck as she sent the text, but when a response didn’t immediately come, she shoved her phone into her pocket and stepped forward. She had promised Sam that she would walk through those doors, and she was going to do that, Dean or not. 

The motel door was warded: she could feel it in her grace as she stepped past the Impala. _So what?_ that inner voice chided, and she looked down at her extended arm, where the black marker was beginning to fade. _You’re warded, too._ Even still, she hesitated on the threshold, one hand wrapped around the door handle. Whatever sigils had been raised, they prevented her from probing past the walls. But the door was unlocked.

Inside, the room was dark. Alex frowned at the dimness that greeted her, and she lifted her grace to her eyes to combat the gloom. The wardings pressed down around her, a buzzing fly in the recesses of her mind, but even still, her grace shifted within her, twisting her stomach. Alex forced the sudden pang of discomfort back down. “Hello?” She shut the door and stepped further inwards. Sam sat on the bed in front of her, both feet planted on the thin motel carpet. He was watching her, unmoving, and Alex's stomach flipped. “Sam? Are you okay?” 

The distraught light in Sam’s eyes was the first sign of danger; the hands that grabbed Alex's wrist were the second. They yanked her back, the scuffle of her feet lost beneath the yelp that was ripped from her throat. Her wing collided with a solid body, and Alex instinctively reached down for Lucifer’s grace. There was nothing. Panic exploded in her chest and she twisted, teeth bared; a deep-throated shout punctured the air as her canines sunk into flesh. The grip on her right arm loosened and she ripped it free, her eyes glowing a pale blue that cut through the darkness. 

The light died as something clamped around her wrist, cold as steel, and Alex screeched. One second, her grace had captured her eyes, pumping through her veins like blood, and the next second, it was gone. Vanished. Her chest was cold and empty. The hands that held her fell away, but Alex barely noticed, stumbling back with another wordless scream. Without her grace, nothing secured her angel blade. It fell from her sleeve with a clatter, bouncing off of her foot and skittering across the room. “What did you do to me?” Alex’s fingers scrabbled at the loop of metal around her wrist, her voice little more than a breathless wail. Her grace was just … gone.

Her legs wobbled, and then her knees gave out, sending Alex crashing to the ground. Her lungs felt empty, void of life, and she gasped for air. “Hey!” Sam’s voice sounded distant, but a second later, she felt him kneeling at her side. “You said it wouldn’t hurt her!” 

His hands on her body grounded her, shocking her back into reality. Alex rolled over onto her side, eyes screwed up as the lights flickered on, chasing away the shadows into the recesses of the room. A silver bracelet sat snugly against her wrist, warm and smooth; Alex’s fingers twisted it, and a sob stuck in her throat. There wasn’t a clasp. It was one solid piece of … something. 

Her eyes snapped upwards at the rustle of fabric. Crowley was leaning up against a wooden table, a crystal glass in one hand. Dean stood by the closed door, his arms crossed; from the way he was scowling and rubbing at his bicep, he had been the one who had grabbed her. Her head whipped side to side, eyes wide. What were they doing here? “It won’t hurt her.” Crowley answered Sam’s question, drawing Alex’s eyes back onto him. “But she’s powered down, as promised.”

“What did you do?” Castiel stepped out from the corner, and Alex let out a wordless shriek. She could see his vessel, tall and tanned, but his wings … Alex twisted, and she almost fell over as she scrambled to her feet. _Her_ wings were gone. Her fingers scrabbled across her shoulders, but the skin beneath her jacket was flat and smooth. No wings. No grace. No angel. “I can’t feel our bond.” 

“Good. That means Lucifer can’t either, right?” Dean stepped away from the door, and Alex backed away from him, only stopping when her knees hit the bed. His eyes barely lingered on her before passing onto Crowley. “Right?” 

“Theoretically, yes.” Crowley swirled his drink, and Alex steadied her trembling jaw as she tried to ignore the emptiness within her. What the hell was going on? She felt his gaze upon her, and she fruitlessly tried to push the thin cuff from her wrist. “That bracelet binds and neutralizes her grace, wings and all. All that's left is her human soul. Even if Lucifer can recognize it, it’ll take him some time to find it among the million others.”

It took Alex a second before she realized that her mouth was hanging open. She worked her jaw, searching for words, but … Her mind felt numb and empty, just like her chest. “Unless she told him where she was going,” Dean added flatly. 

A pause ensued, but Alex didn't answer. Her thumb was growing sore from the fruitless attempts at prying the bracelet free, but there was no grace to soothe the ache. “Unlikely,” Crowley finally said. “My sources say she’s been traveling alone. She hasn’t had contact with him since Sioux Falls.” 

“What do you want from me?” Alex dropped down onto the bed, wings curling to — no. Her shoulders hunched, but there were no wings, no brush of feathers against her arms to comfort her. Just emptiness. “If you” — She paused to draw the back of her hand across her nose, holding back a sniffle — “if you know I’m not w-with him, why am I here?” 

The bed squeaked as Sam sat down next to her, and Alex drew her knees up into her chest. “We just want to talk.” 

“Talk?” If she still had feathers, they would have bristled. “Why is it that every time you guys want to talk, it involves locking me up?” Alex dug her nails into the bracelet, spinning it around as she searched for the clasp — there had to be a clasp. It sat so snugly against her skin, how else could Dean have gotten it onto her? “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not picking sides?” 

Sam looked up at Dean, and Alex watched a series of glances pass around the room. “She — I don’t think she knows,” Sam eventually said, and Alex shrunk back as Castiel strode forward. 

His hand caught her wrist, the grip immediately softening as a tremor passed through her limbs. His fingers were warm, and Alex’s chest constricted in a silent sob. Her bond to him was gone; for the first time in years, she was alone — no Castiel, no Lucifer — and she curled her free hand in the comforter to keep from reaching out. Castiel turned her palm upwards, calloused fingertips brushing across the weathered sigil drawn on her skin, smudged by her scuffle with Dean. “She's warded herself.” His voice was loud enough for all to hear, but when he dipped his head to look Alex in the eyes, there was nothing but quiet concern. “She wouldn’t have felt it.” 

_Felt it?_ “Felt what?” Alex pulled her arms back into her chest as Castiel stepped away. 

“Lucifer.” Crowley's voice had Alex's head snapping towards him. Despite the relaxed, confident posture he had adopted as he leaned against the sturdy table, his dark eyes held an intensity that rarely surfaced. "He's fathered a child."

 _'Other suitors_ ' Alex fought back in vain against the cold shock that gripped her chest, but no matter how much she struggled, it held her still. “You’re lying.” Fury welled up, breaking through the ice, and her voice froze over. “How many _enaiish_ are left? Two? Three?" She scoffed. "None of them are unmated, and none of them would let Lucifer within one hundred feet of them.” 

Her scathing words barely grazed the demon's composure. “It’s a nephilim.”

“No — you’re lying.” Alex’s legs trembled, and she forced herself to rise up on shaky feet. “That — is this your plan? Make up some bullshit story and get me to turn against him?” The sympathetic grimace on Sam’s face had her confidence faltering, and her eyes widened as she turned to Castiel; he wasn’t even looking in her direction. Crowley and Dean wouldn’t hesitate to lie to her, but those two … 

Alex sank back down, unable to stop the shiver that gripped her limbs. “You think Lucifer might have followed Alex here." Crowley must have said something else, because she heard Dean's voice ringing in her ears. _They have to be lying_. Anger burned at her cheeks, but the hole gnawing at her chest took away its edge. Lucifer couldn’t have done that. All that bragging had just been talk, an attempt to stir up jealousy, but he couldn’t have actually … Her toes curled in her boots even as her chest constricted. _Luc_ — The prayer jumped to mind, quickly quelled, and Alex rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She wanted to weep from the emptiness inside of her. 

“Well, if he did, we don’t have much time —” 

“If he followed me, he’d already be in here.” Alex lifted her head, and Sam fell silent. “But he’s not. I told him to stay away from me.” Her eyes turned back down as Crowley’s face darkened. “If he was, you’d already be dead.” That last sentence was muttered, barely audible, but the room was so silent that the words hung in the air. 

"Perhaps it's time we get going." Castiel was the first to speak up, and Alex tugged sharply on the bracelet. "Before he does decide to make an appearance." She didn't hear Crowley make his exit, but by the time she looked back up, the demon was gone. 

"Cas is right." Dean was already on the other side of the room, his bag slung over his shoulder. "It's time to go." The bed behind Alex dipped as he tossed Sam's backpack onto the mattress. Two steps took him back to the center of the room, and Alex forced herself to hold his gaze as he added, "You good to walk out of here?" 

"Is my only other option is you knocking out my lights?" Remarkably a note of scorn tinged her voice. "Yeah, I'm good to walk." Alex pushed herself to her feet, stubbornly shrugging off Sam's hand on her shoulder; she could hold herself up despite how frail her legs felt beneath the weight of her body. "Lead the way."

**Lebanon, Kansas**

**T** he bunker lights were humming above her head. Every so often, one of the bulbs would flicker, but they never burnt out. With her head leaned back over the chair, Alex stared up at the lights until spots danced in her eyes. How could anyone change a lightbulb that high up? Her fingers toyed with the smooth silver bracelet locked around her wrist, a mindless, fruitless hunt for the clasp. 

"Hey." She heard Sam's voice from somewhere behind her, and she reluctantly swiveled towards the source. He was approaching from the side hallway, a plate balanced in one hand, a bowl in the other. "How are you feeling?" The question went unanswered as Alex swiveled back away, head tipping to once again stare at the raised concrete ceiling. "I, uh, brought you lunch. Crowley said you might get hungry now, so I figured, uh …" The ceramic clicked against the table as Sam set the food down. "I hope you like grilled cheese and tomato soup. It's sort of been Dean's go-to for the past couple of weeks, so there's more if you want it."

"I'm not hungry." The low grumble of her stomach overshadowed her lie, and Alex tried to hide it by swiveling again, praying that the old chair would squeak. It didn't.

To her dismay, the chair behind her did as Sam sat down. "How are you feeling?" 

"Empty. Leave me alone." 

"Alex —"

" _Sam._ I said leave me alone!" This time, the chair did squeak as Alex whipped around. "You know what that means, right? It means get the hell away from me!" For a moment, her eyes dropped down onto the food, and she felt her mouth start to water — no! Alex tore her eyes away, grinding her teeth together. Why did she have to be human again? From the corner of her eye, she saw movement, and Alex grimaced as Dean stepped into view, a beer in his hand. "Great. Now you're both here." 

She felt Dean's eyes move across her as she swung away, her back to the brothers and her arms crossed. For a few moments, the brothers were quiet — the two Winchesters were sure to be having one of their silent conversations. "Give us a minute, would ya, Sam?" 

Alex's stomach sank as she heard Sam rise up. A second later, the same chair squeaked as Dean sat down in the vacant seat. Sam's footsteps were quickly fading — was that a pause, him hesitating on the threshold before he disappeared? Without her grace, she couldn't tell. "Well?" she muttered once Sam was gone. "You here to hit me again?" 

She heard Dean exhale, a long, exasperated breath. "Turn around, okay? I just want to talk to you." Something in his voice, a note of earnest, had Alex reluctantly swiveling. 

"That's why I came to the motel," she retorted, and she spun the bracelet around her wrist. "And look where that got me. As far as I'm concerned, I don't want to hear a damn word from you."

She started to turn, but Dean reached out to grab the arm of her chair. "What the hell happened to you, huh? You used to be so good about knowing right from wrong." 

Alex snorted. He was one to talk. "I guess I grew up."

"That's not growing up! You just got blind." Anger crept into Dean's voice, and it took him a moment to swallow it back. "Look, I know you don't like it, but I — this isn't easy for me either, seeing you like this." Alex scoffed at his words, and Dean frowned. "Hey, I'm serious, alright? You think I would be doing this if I didn't care? I was there for you as much as I could be when we lost Bobby — when we lost Cas. And I was always willing to lend a hand when you were with Ash. Hell, even when you were working with Crowley, selling your soul, I worked as many dead-end leads as anyone else to break your deal. But this? Lucifer? How am I supposed to save you from something you're choosing? Cause I'm all out of ideas."

"Save me? There's nothing for you to save me from, Dean! Why can't you just try and see my side?" Again, Alex's stomach grumbled, and her eyes darted towards her plate. 

She quickly tore her gaze away before Dean noticed; he seemed too absorbed in her words; he had paused to mull them over, hiding his hesitation behind a sip of his beer. "There's no side to see," he finally said.. "You're defending the guy who tortured Sam. He _broke_ Cas' head." The bottle clinked against the table as Dean set it back down, and Alex squared her jaw at the intensity in his gaze. "Just think, huh? All those years in your head — what has he done to you?" 

_What?_ For a second, Alex faltered. "Do? He didn't _do_ anything!" 

"Are you sure? Because I remember you waking up in tears because of him." 

"Yeah, cause I was scared of him at first. But the more time I was forced to spend with him — and we were both forced, Dean, cause we both showed up there without choosing to — the more I started to realize that he's not that different from you and I." Dean's expression didn't soften, and to Alex's surprise, indignation blossomed in that void in her chest. "He's not just some disembodied light that tortures and kills! There's a whole person there with thoughts and feelings." 

"And let me guess. You're the only one who gets to see that side of him."

"I'm the only one who's tried!" The indignation and frustration boiled over, and Alex threw up her hands. "How many times have you talked to him? Like actually talked to him. Let me guess — you've never even bothered to ask how he's doing."

"No," Dean relented. "I've been too busy worrying who he’ll kill next." For a moment he was silent, watching her, and Alex's eyes slid downwards. "What happened to that wide-eyed girl who just wanted to hunt? All this angel bullshit … it's gone far enough." Alex resisted the urge to pull away as Dean reached out. His fingers didn't quite make it to the bracelet on her wrist, but the action was enough to draw Alex's attention down into it. "So until further notice, all of that angel stuff — it's cancelled. You'll have plenty of time to get your head straight." With a creak of his chair, Dean rose to his feet. "You should eat up. I got the soup at the supermarket in town instead of at the Gas N Sip, so you know it's good." 

Reluctantly, Alex looked down at her food. It _did_ look good. "We'll see about that," she muttered, and she fiddled around with the spoon that Sam had brought out with the bowl. "I'll get this damn thing off of me soon enough, just you watch. Even if …" She trailed off when Dean stepped away, and Alex picked at her soup as she watched him move up and into the library. She _would_ get it off, long before whatever arbitrary date Dean would pick. And then, she would find Lucifer to straighten out this entire mess once and for all. She was stuck here underground with nothing but time: there was nowhere Dean could hide the key that she couldn't find.

**A** s it turned out, apparently there was. The bunker was huge, and after almost two full days of fruitless hunting, Alex had all but thrown in the towel. Dean knew she was looking — he had known it after the second time he had found her in his room, searching under the overturned mattress — and he had undoubtedly taken precautions. Either the key was being kept on his person, or it was being safely stored outside of the bunker. Both places she had no access to. 

The bunker doors had been kept under tight lock and key ever since her arrival. And thanks to the bracelet, coupled with the Winchesters’ relentless restrictions, Alex had found herself sliding into the vicious cycle of eating, drinking, and sleeping. Human things. But perhaps their necessity was a blessing in disguise: there was little else to do but to read and study her latest restraint. The more that she stared at the bracelet, the more she ran her fingers over the smooth, warm metal, the more she was convinced of its origins. By the third evening, she was confident that it was heaven-made. Crowley himself had proven the versatility of the angelic metal when he had melted down an angel’s blade to make bullets — the very memory still made her leg throb. Who’s to say that, with a little spellwork and some creativity, he couldn’t have designed this as well?

With an audible sigh, Alex forced her mind back onto the book she held in her lap. Dwelling on the properties of her restraints hadn’t helped her in the past four days, and doing so now was sure to only yield the same results. Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes on the faded Greek text — aided only by her rusty lessons from Bobby Singer, it was all she could do to translate one sentence at a time — and instead found her eyes turning to Castiel. The seraph was seated in the library with her but at the opposite table; it was painfully obvious that he had done his best to place himself as far away from her as possible. Quite the opposite strategy from Sam, who had settled down directly across from Alex less than an hour before. His head was buried in his laptop, eyes skimming across the screen. Alex’s head was simply swimming. It had to be because of the book; the jostled handwriting and the foreign script would make her go cross-eyed sober. And right now, she definitely wasn’t sober. Alex reached for her glass, frowning at the few drops of whiskey that remained. Two glasses were going much further than they used to. With another sigh, Alex reached for the half-empty bottle. Could she handle a third? Maybe not, but there was nothing left in the bunker for her to do but drink. 

“Hey.” Sam’s hand found hers before it could find the bottle. “Maybe it’s time to give that a rest. You don’t have the same tolerance you’re used to.” His fingers squeezed her wrist before he pulled away, grabbing the bottle in the process. “Finding anything interesting?” 

It took Alex a second before she realized he was motioning to the book in her lap, and her eyes quickly dropped down. “Uh, nothing. This just seems to be a collection of obscure myths. Astra Planeti, or, uh, Aeacus and Rhadamanthus.” Her gaze flickered over to Castiel, but the seraph was still staring down at the newspaper in his hands: was he reading that, or was he just pretending? “I’m not really paying much attention.” 

Her eyes turned back towards her book, pausing only momentarily on the bottle in Sam's hand before continuing on. The silence that followed wasn't long, no more than a minute, before Castiel's newspaper rustled. "Did the bunker's warding fail?" he asked, and Alex cast him a sideways glance at the flat, dry tone. She instinctively reached out with … nothing. Whatever limited human senses remained, none were strong enough to detect the bunker's wardings or lack thereof. 

"I just powered it down," came a reply, and a second later Dean stepped into sight. His red flannel hung open, bunched around the hips from where one hand was shoved into a pocket, and he gave Alex a small nod before he crossed the room. The look lasted barely a second, and then his attention was elsewhere. "Crowley called, says he has big news about the nephilim. Hopefully he's figured out where it is."

Alex winced, and she buried her head back into her book. There wasn't enough alcohol in her bloodstream for this conversation. "Wait wait wait." Sam had set the whiskey down as he turned to face his brother, and Alex was quick to snatch it up. "Wait a second. So now … Crowley can what, just drop in whenever he feels like it? I-I prefer keeping Crowley at a distance. A long distance."

"Not very charitable, Moose." The sound of Crowley's voice directly behind her had Alex startling, and the neck of the bottle clinked against her glass as she almost sloshed the whiskey out onto the table. "Particularly since, once again, I'm saving both your asses." The sound of his voice had moved closer, and Alex stiffened as she felt his hand run along the back of her chair. "Rough day, kitten?"

"Fuck off, Crowley." Alex shoved the bottle away with an irritable scowl. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, hasn't Dean told you?" Crowley's voice was on the move again, and Alex watched him circle around to her right. "As you know, I'm temporarily _persona non grata_ in my own palace." Alex watched the Winchesters exchange looks, the word 'palace?' mouthed by each, and she managed to catch Crowley's gaze in time to roll her eyes. "However," — Crowley continued on, unperturbed — "there are still those I control. Operatives."

"Crowley, can we just get the damn news without the drama?"

"Can I get you without the flannel?" Crowley shot back, and this time it was Sam who rolled his eyes. "No. Still, I endure. I have a woman on the inside, and I've had her do a little digging. Little known fact about Jefferson Rooney is that he and one of his aides have been close for the past few months — biblically speaking." Alex could feel his eyes turn to her, but she kept her attention fixed upon the table: only once the chill of his gaze moved on did she lift her glass to her lips for a long, much-needed drink. "Her name is Kelly Kline, and she's with him in Indianapolis." 

_Indianapolis?_ Alex looked over at Sam, and he shut his laptop. "Rooney was in the middle of a fundraising campaign when Lucifer jumped him," he explained. "They're staying at an estate owned by Ron Forester, the, uh, hedge fund zillionaire."

"Yeah, I've heard of him." Alex took another long drink, tilting the glass as the whiskey bit at the back of her throat. She had already made a sizable dent in what she had poured, and she could feel it in her head. "So, what? You can't actually be thinking about crashing through the front doors, right? There's probably enough security to make a small army, and that's assuming Lucifer doesn't get to you first." She watched the brothers exchange looks over the rim of her glass, and her confidence faltered as she glanced up at Crowley. "You meant — I'm the bait, aren't I?"

Dean and Sam exchanged glances once again, a series of lifted eyebrows and tight-lipped frowns. “We need to get her out of there before Lucifer decides what he wants to do with her," Sam finally said, and Alex's nails scraped against the smooth glass. He hadn't answered her question. "Of course, she’s in that mansion with the President, which is guarded like a fortress. Only one of us has a chance of getting in there.” 

Alex’s cheeks flushed in indignation before she realized that all the eyes in the room had moved past her, coming instead to rest on Crowley. “Bollocks.” The word was spoken quietly, little more than a muttered curse that was quickly dismissed. “Then I suggest you four get to Indianapolis. I'll have you-know-who meet you there. Once you're settled and ready, I'll fetch the missus." 

Crowley vanished, leaving Alex looking back and forth between Sam and Dean. What was he talking about? He had made it seem like he was retrieving more than one person. She didn't get a chance to vocalize her confusion before the Winchesters were already on their feet. "Five minutes, and then we're leaving. Grab only what you need." Dean was already on his way to the door, pausing only long enough to snatch the bottle of whiskey from Alex's possession. "And no more of this." He patted Alex on the head — the action was intentionally gentle, but Alex still grunted as her skull throbbed. "Better bring a paper bag if you're feeling sick. It's a long drive."

**Indianapolis, Indiana**

**T** he trip had taken all night, and Alex had spent the entire drive curled up in the backseat, trying to fight back the headache and the nausea that the alcohol had left behind. As usual, Sam and Dean occupied the front seat, but by the time that Alex had first climbed into the back, Castiel was nowhere to be found. "He'll drive separately," Dean had said. Just a nicer way of saying _he doesn't want to be near you_. The truth hurt, roiling in her stomach alongside the carsickness, but Alex didn't fight its sting. Castiel had every right to avoid her, between their breakup and Lucifer's threats. And now, without her grace or her wings, it must be difficult to even recognize her. 

She barely recognized herself. 

By the time the Impala pulled up to the Plains Motel, dawn had broken, tinging the sky pink. The brothers wasted little time in bustling her into a room, bags slung over each of their shoulders, and Alex settled herself down upon the bed as they set to work. _Castiel?_ Her eyes turned towards the door, already locked tight by Dean. _Where are you?_

She didn't get an answer — she never expected one — but her shoulders still slumped when Castiel appeared through the door ten minutes later, barely sparing her a second glance. A repeated, _Cas_ , didn't catch his attention, either, and Alex slid down onto the floor, knees up to her chest as she leaned against the mattress. He couldn't even hear her prayers. Which meant that Lucifer couldn't, either. 

Not that it mattered; apparently he wasn't looking for her anymore. For some reason, that thought had her eyes stinging, and Alex buried her head into her knees, eyes squeezed shut as she tugged on the smooth, slick bracelet. She could hear the Winchesters working, dragging the long wooden table across the room, but she shut out their voices. Maybe if she closed her eyes, this would all go away. 

That hope was dashed by the all-too-familiar voice, effeminate and scathing. "It's not The Langham, but I suppose it'll have to do." 

Alex's head snapped up, eyes stretching wide as she searched for the source of that scornful cadence. There. Rowena stood at Crowley's side, her chin lifted haughtily as she looked around the grimy room. Her white skin seemed to glow in contrast with her red hair and black dress, but her blood-red lips were twisted in disdain. Alex scrambled up to her feet, shoulders rolling back as she flared her wings — no, she didn't. She was painfully aware of the lack of weight on her back, of the lack of feathers that didn't brush against her skin. The room had fallen silent, and Alex's feet carried her two steps before she threw herself forward. 

A cold, invisible hand seized her before she could reach the witch, freezing her in her tracks. Its sudden presence punched the air from Alex's lungs, and she wheezed, her balled fists clenching tighter as she fought the gasp that its phantom cold brought. For half a second, her stomach flipped at the memory of Lucifer's grace. But that chill had been refreshing, a rushing, icy river on the first day of spring. What held her was solid, burning where it touched her bare skin. All it took was a look at Crowley to confirm that he was the one responsible. "What is she doing here?" No matter how much she willed her muscles to struggle, those cold bonds held fast. 

Rowena’s lips curled in a sneer, a break in her composure that barely lasted a second before it ended in a sniff. "I suppose it was too much to hope that you wouldn't find your way back." Her chin tilted higher as Alex snarled. "How do we know we can trust her?" The question was directed over Alex's shoulder towards the Winchesters. "It's a miracle she hasn't brought Lucifer down upon us yet."

Alex heard the rustle of clothing, but she refused to turn her head to see who had moved. "We can't trust her." Dean's voice came from her right side. "Not on this. But she won’t be able to contact Lucifer until he walks through the front door.” He motioned behind Rowena to where a set of double doors were open wide. There was a room beyond it, a mirror image of the one they occupied. Some of the tension slipped away from Alex's shoulders as her eyes left the witch. That was where they had taken the table to. It now sat just past the door, already decorated with a wide assortment of jars and candles all crowded around a metal bowl. Something else lay on the table, large and rounded, but it was covered by a black cloth. They were preparing a spell? 

The force that held her tight relaxed, and Alex grit her teeth as she waited for it to vanish completely. "Why is Rowena here?" she repeated, voice tight as she struggled to hold back her rage. "What exactly is your plan?"

The adjoining room vanished as Sam circled around to stand in front of her. “Don’t worry about her for now, okay?” He nudged her back, and Alex reluctantly let him lead her to the bed. “We got everything on your list,” she could hear Dean saying to Rowena, but Sam stubbornly kept them from Alex’s sight. 

Gentle pressure on her shoulders had Alex dropping onto the bed with a bump. “What is she doing here, Sam? She — do you know what she did to me?” If Alex had wings, they would have trembled. “You can’t trust her!” She ducked to one side, and the sight of Rowena, standing over the table, had Alex leaping to her feet. Of course. They wouldn’t dare — “This isn’t about the — the nephilim.” The word stuck in her throat, but Alex forced it out. “You’re going to try and send him back to hell.” Sam turned his head away, eyes dropping to the ground, and Alex lunged forward, shrieking against the hands that yanked her back. “You can’t!” Her arms swung wildly, and Sam grunted as her elbow caught in the crook of his neck. “You can’t send him back to the Cage!” 

Crowley’s head turned, and Alex’s eyes bulged as he pressed a finger against his lips. Her lungs constricted, breathless, as a fiery band settled around her throat, squeezing out a winded choke. The reprimand lasted only a second before it released her, but still Alex sagged back onto the bed, spluttering as she fought to breathe. The back of her throat was burning as tears sprung up. She swallowed them back, scrubbing at her nose as she hiccuped. “You c-can’t!” she repeated; the words barely got out. “P-P-Please, Sam.” 

The mattress sunk as Sam dropped down beside her, and Alex wrapped her arms around herself, head turned away from the warm hand on her knee. "Crowley, do you think you can get Kelly here in the next five minutes?" 

Alex didn't have to look up to sense the wryness that twisted Crowley's words. "I can fetch her now." A faint shift of the air signalled his disappearance, and Alex drew her legs back up onto the bed. With a single pat to her knee, Sam rose up, leaving Alex to sullenly glare after him as he crossed over to his brother. "Look," he murmured, and Alex had to strain her ears to hear each word. "It's not too late to go get another room. Alex shouldn't have to be here for this." 

She could feel Dean’s stare burn into the side of her face. Alex gave the bracelet a sharp spin; anything to seem preoccupied. “We can’t cut her loose,” she finally heard him say, and the sound of running water filled the room and Dean turned on the tap. “Not now that she knows.” 

“I know, but Ketch’s HPG —”

“Won’t work on her,” Dean finished, and Alex’s fingers stilled as her curiosity was piqued. _HPG? Ketch?_ Her eyes flickered towards the table, warily eyeing that smooth, oblong figure that lay covered. That had to be it, right? What else could it be? “Not with that thing on her arm.” 

“You — you can’t send him back while he’s in a vessel.” Somehow, her voice didn’t crack as she spoke, but her jaw did tremble, and Alex grit her teeth as their eyes turned back onto her. “That’s what got him out of hell in the first place, remember?” Dean’s face darkened, and Alex ran her fingers up her arm as she forced a laugh, a sound more pitiful than scornful. “H-How do you expect to get him out, huh? You g-gonna — you gonna let him kick you around a-and hope his vessel breaks down like last time?” 

The brothers exchanged looks; a lift of Sam’s eyebrows and a twitch of Dean’s lips was all that was needed, and Sam’s jaw ticked as he turned away, shaking his head as he crossed back to Alex's side. The meaning of the conversation was lost upon Alex, and she let her eyes turn past the two. Just in time to see Crowley flicker back into view, a wide-eyed woman at his side.

Alex was on her feet before she even realized it, stopped from advancing by Sam’s arm barred across her chest. The woman’s eyes, as dark a brown as her shoulder-length hair, were a little too close together, her nose a touch too long, to be considered delicate or alluring, but there was a soft glow to her face: a motherly face. “ _That’s_ Kelly Kline?” _That’s who Lucifer chose over me._ Alex’s shoulders rolled back, but there were no wings to flare, not grace to churn within her. Only emptiness. “She …” 

“Why don’t we let Kelly take a seat.” Sam nudged her back, and Alex let her feet follow his lead, retreating across the room so that the woman could sink down onto the bed. Dean was at her side a second later with a glass of water and a word of encouragement, and Alex slunk back to the corner to avoid him as he stepped away. “This is probably a lot for her.” 

“It’s a lot for me.” The muttered words went unanswered, and Alex leaned up against the wall, her shoulders flat against the plaster as she crossed her arms. “What did he see in you, anyways?” 

Kelly looked up from her glass. “I — I’m sorry, what?” 

“Lucifer.” Alex pushed herself forward, ducking under the hand that went up to stop her approach. “Why you?” She jerked back at Dean’s growled, “stop her,” and her fingers wrapped around the bracelet, yanking it against her wrist. “What does he see in you? Did he promise you something?” 

She didn’t realize she was shouting until Sam’s arms were around her, gripping her tight and holding her back. “Shh. Calm down.” His lips were against her ear, and when Alex froze he moved, resting his chin on top of her head. “It’s okay.” 

“Get off of me, Sam.” Alex felt the Winchester stiffen in surprise at the chill to her tone, and she tore herself free. Kelly was watching them with wide eyes, and Alex drew in a deep breath to steady her voice before she spoke again. “Lucifer is … possessing Jefferson Rooney,” she began, “and you …” Anger had her tongue faltering, flushing her cheeks, and her fists clenched at her side as her stomach knotted. _Child. Lucifer’s … child. No, it couldn't be._

“No.” Kelly’s eyes flickered from her, moving across the other men in the room. “No, you … you’re making it up.” The woman forced a small laugh, thin and dry, and Alex squared her jaw “I know what some people say about him, but … that’s impossible.” 

“Well, to be fair, so is teleporting,” Dean reminded, and Alex scowled; now wasn’t the time for that light-hearted tone. “But ta-da. Here you are.” 

The woman’s lips parted, and her voice trembled slightly as she fought to control the surprise that paled her cheeks. “W-Who are you people?” 

From Dean’s left, Rowena cleared her throat, and Alex clenched her jaw to keep from snarling. “Well, dear, I’m a witch. He’s an angel.” She motioned to Castiel beside her, who dipped his head, and behind them, Crowley added, “And I’m the King of Hell.” 

“Oh god.” 

“No, actually, he left,” Castiel corrected, and Alex rolled her eyes. 

“That’s not helping,” she snapped. “She — what’s the plan? Do we kill her? Or the kid,” she jumped to add as glares turned her way, and a defensive edge crept into her voice. “That’s why we’re here, right? If you wanted Lucifer alone, you would have used me as bait. You want his …” Alex ground her teeth, biting back the anger as she finished, “You want the kid, too.” Kelly’s hand instinctively went to rest on her stomach, and Alex snapped her head to look somewhere else — anywhere else. It landed on Castiel, and Alex bit back a whimper before she forced her eyes onto the ground. Her chest was on fire, boiling with rage, but the pit in her stomach swallowed up the jealousy, spiraling into the emptiness. She was balanced on a tightrope between the two, precariously clinging to the thin thread that stood between her and the chasm beneath. She could feel it in her chest, a cord so taut that the softest breath might break it. But she had to know. Dean was saying something, his voice distant in her mind, but Alex interrupted. “You’re sure the child is … his.” 

“It’s Jeff’s.” 

The tightrope snapped. Alex knew it would, but she wasn’t prepared for the fall. Wasn’t prepared for the white hot pain that shot up her arm as her fist punched through the wall. “Hey!” That was Dean, his urgency lost beneath the rush of blood through her ears. “Get her out of here, okay?” 

Hands took her by the shoulder, gently ushering her towards the adjoining room. Alex couldn’t see who; the blur of tears left the world around her fuzzy. The soft give of a mattress hit her knees, and Alex let whoever was guiding her step back so she could sit. Warm fingers found her elbow, gently extracting her left hand from her chest: when had she cradled it up against her body? Alex blinked, trying to clear her vision, but all it did was send tears down her cheeks to make room for more to fill her eyes. Her chest contracted in a sob, and the figure in front of her — Sam — looked up. “Close your fist for me,” he murmured, his calloused touch gentle on her hand, and Alex winced as she curled her fingers in as best as possible. “You might have broken a knuckle. We won’t be able to tell until the swelling goes down a bit.” Sam's fingers ceased their probing. “You got lucky, you know. A punch as crooked as that should have fractured your wrist.” 

“I wasn’t focusing on my technique.” The response was mumbled out, broken by a wet hiccup, and Alex scrubbed at her cheek, jaw quivering as the warm bracelet rubbed up against her skin. The pain in her hand, the pain in her chest, it was all too much. “Please. Take it off.” 

“I can’t.” Sam’s hands pulled away to rest on her knees. “I don’t have the key, and now … now’s just not the right time, okay? You just have to trust us.”

“Trust you.” Alex’s voice cracked as she pulled her hand back in to cradle it against her chest. “Can I trust you not to hurt him?”

She stifled a sniffle as Dean pushed past Crowley, stopping in the doorway with a quiet cough. With a pat to her knee, Sam stood, and Alex toyed with the bracelet as she watched him leave. “Kelly’s a go,” she heard Dean say. “She said she’s going to give him a call and arrange a meet up in this motel.” His eyes flickered toward Alex, and she dropped her eyes onto her lap. “She’s telling him Alex is with her and that they need to talk.” 

The rest of the conversation was lost to her as the Winchesters walked away, heads bowed as they spoke, and Alex turned her gaze back towards the other room. Kelly was still seated on the bed, her phone pressed up against her ear. Alex couldn’t hear the words being spoken; she didn’t need to to know who was on the other end of the line. Castiel stood at her side, his eyes flickering around the room, unsure where to rest. Alex couldn’t see Crowley or Rowena, and she tried to scrub the tears from her eyes. _Now’s not the time to cry. Not in front of everyone._ A hiccup interrupted her thoughts, and Alex shut her eyes as she drew in several ragged breaths to try and slow her racing heart. Calm and collected. Just like an angel. She _was_ an angel. That thought had her eyes stinging all over again. “Hey.” There were footsteps approaching, and Alex’s shoulders fell as she let out a smooth, composed breath. “Sorry about that. Uh, here.” A beer bottle appeared in front of her face, and Alex looked up at Sam. “Dean said you should ice your hand with this.” 

“Oh.” Alex reached out with her good hand, her fingers sliding along the slick, cold glass. Calm and collected. “Thank you. But I’m fine, Sam.” She wasn’t fine; one look at her face would give it away, but Sam merely shrugged again. _Good_. He didn’t know what to say to her either. “Kelly's talking to him now?” Still cradling her aching hand, Alex stood up, chin tilted upwards to meet Sam’s eyes — or at least, she tried; she could only hold his gaze for a second before she felt her throat closing, and she dropped her eyes to the side. Calm and collected. “I need to speak to him. Before …” She could warn him. Would that win him back — no. She had promised not to get involved. Her eyes turned onto the bracelet, and a rush of frustration caught her by surprise. Neither side deserved her help.

From the doorway, Dean scoffed. “Yeah. I think we both know that’s not happening. We shouldn’t be letting you anywhere near him.”

"Great, so what’s the alternative? Hogtie me and toss me into the bathroom?" Alex did her best to cross her arms, wincing as her elbow brushed against her swollen knuckles. From behind Dean, Kelly was hanging up the phone, and Crowley stepped into view, doing nothing to hide the fact that he was listening in. His presence only increased her indignation. "Great. If I’m such a liability, what's the point in me even being here?" 

"Don't skirt the truth, Dean," Crowley said, and Dean's teeth ground as he turned to look at the demon. "You know why she's here. Kelly and that unholy child of hers may be the bait, but Alex is the diversion. If we're lucky, seeing her like that will throw Lucifer off of his game just long enough to give us the edge." 

"And if not?" 

"If not," Crowley finished, "then pray he doesn't kill us." The empty glass in his hand was suddenly half full, and he swirled the dark liquid before taking a sip. "For some reason — God knows why — he's intent on keeping that promise for her sake. Hopefully, that'll work in our favor."

"Uh, excuse me?" Kelly's quiet voice drew Alex's attention from Crowley. "Jeff — uh, I — uh, _he_ said he'll be here in fifteen minutes." 

"Great. Plan on it being ten." Dean's voice grew brisk, and Alex took the opportunity of Kelly's distraction to slip past the two brothers. Crowley remained rooted in place, and Alex hunched her shoulders to make herself smaller in his eyes as she skirted by. 

In the other room, Rowena was standing by Castiel, chin held high as she watched her son. The seraph beside her was as stiff as a board, clearly in some level of discomfort, judging by his tightened jaw. "Lucifer's on his way." Alex stopped in front of the witch, unable to hold back the malice in her voice. "If you want any last meals, I'd suggest you eat them now."

Rowena’s lips parted, but a, "Mother," from Crowley had her closing them with a thin smile. She swept past Alex, her heels tapping against the thin, worn carpet, and Alex watched her leave with a scowl. Castiel hadn't moved — Alex half-expected something from him, a rebuke or maybe some comforting words, but he too stepped away without a sound, crossing the room to stand by Dean's side. Alex let them go. Whatever details the four of them were planning, Alex didn’t want to know. Because if she knew, then she might try and stop it.

She heard Sam's murmur, inaudible, mingle among the voices, and she watched him from the corner of her eye. He was speaking to Kelly, head dipped so his face was closer to hers as he spoke in short, urgent words. After a pause, Kelly shook her head, and Sam turned away. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Alex quickly pivoted, tugging on the thin motel curtain to peer out into the parking lot. Silent. How could the world outside be so still when she felt like she was being torn apart?

"Are you okay?" Kelly's voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Alex let the curtain fall back into place. The woman stood a few feet away, blocking the adjoining room from Alex's sight. After a second, she shifted back, eyes widening with uncertainty — oh. Alex was glaring. She softened her gaze, and the hesitation began to fade away. "I just thought …" 

"It's fine." Alex shrugged, and her toe scuffed against the motel carpet before she stilled it. "And I'm fine, thanks for asking. Just … working through some things." Her eyes flickered down to Kelly's stomach, and her mouth dried, but she managed to add, "Not your fault. How are you holding up?" 

"Uh, surprisingly, I think I'm okay." Kelly placed her hand upon her belly, and Alex immediately turned her head. Her eyes fell onto the bed, where a book had been tossed — the motel's copy of the Bible, by the looks of it. The front cover still smouldered in the shape of a slim handprint; Kelly's handprint, caused by the … Alex looked away. "At least, as okay as I think anyone in my situation can be." A touch of humor graced her tone, but it was quick to fade. "It's been a long day." 

"Yeah. Tell me about it." With a sigh, Alex forced herself to turn back around. Forced herself to face the conversation. "How, um, how long have you and Jeff been … a thing?" _Please say more than two weeks._ Her tongue darted out to lick at her dry lips. _Please say more than …_

"A little over four months, now," Kelly said, and Alex's shoulders sagged in visible relief. "Jeff's wife died two years ago last March, just before he announced his campaign. We had been friends at the time, and I was there by his side at her funeral, and as time went on …" Kelly trailed off with a heavy sigh. "I assumed the changes were just stress. All the looks, all the questions. I never thought that …" 

_Questions?_ "Did he ever mention someone else? Someone you didn't know?" _Did he even think about me?_ That unspoken thought tore into her chest, and Alex clenched her jaw to keep it from shaking her words. "Anything to make you wonder?"

If the intensity in her stare gave Kelly any pause, she didn't show it. "No. He just kept asking … questions. Like what it was that I saw in him. Or how he could win me back if I ever broke things off." 

"And what did you tell him?" 

"That it would never happen. That I wasn't going anywhere." Again Kelly sighed, and Alex felt her stomach twist. She had never told Lucifer that to his face. Could she have, in all honesty, done so? The knot in her gut grew impossibly tighter, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut. Things could have been so different had she just given up, just given in to him. "And that I loved him." 

"Great." Alex's voice broke around the word. "Good for you guys. Excuse me." She shouldered her way past Kelly, eyes darting around in search of an isolated place to hide. Most of the party were still in the other room, but Castiel had turned away. His gaze flickered across Alex, quickly moving away before their eyes could lock. Alex didn't need to see his wings to know that he was still uncomfortable with her presence; it must be jarring to see her like this, stripped of the very gift he had given. She could feel Kelly's eyes on her back, and Alex slunk to the furthest corner of the room, back towards where her fist had broken through the papered drywall. There was a squeal of tires from beyond the motel, and Alex felt her heart leap in her chest. Lucifer would be here soon — what was she going to do? What was she going to say to him? Her eyes darted over to Kelly, not lingering before moving on. She should be screaming, teething with jealousy, but all she felt was fatigue tinged with fear. 

Lucifer slept with Kelly. He _slept_ with her and now there was a child and … there was the jealousy, the red that filtered in and gripped her chest with its molten fangs. But its hold relinquished almost as soon as it had come, the torrents that swept through her receding like the tide and leaving behind doubt and fear. Was this her fault, pushing him away to this extreme? She could have stopped this, and all it would have cost her was her stupid pride. He wanted one word — one short and simple word — and there would have been no nephilim, no trap in the motel. No bracelet. Just … him.

The fifteen minutes passed in a blur. Alex paced back and forth, pouring over every scenario she could possibly imagine, practicing every word until she could recite them in her sleep. How would Lucifer react? Would he be angry? Defensive? Would he plead for her forgiveness, or would he deny that the child was even his? Before she knew it, there was a knock on the door, and Alex's head snapped up, eyes wide. The double set of doors that led into the adjoining room were shut, hiding those behind it from view. The only ones still in sight were Kelly and Castiel; as Alex watched, the seraph murmured something in the woman's ear before stepping away towards the open closet. Alex sidestepped to make room, and Castiel paused. "Don't talk to them," he murmured. "They're here to sweep the room."

 _They?_ Before Alex could ask, he stepped inside, closing the folding doors behind him. Alex turned away with a shake of her head. Kelly was at the door, peering out before unlocking it and stepping aside, and Alex sank down onto the far bed. Three men entered, all dressed in black suits; Alex shifted at the sight of the earpieces. "Ms. Kline." The one in the lead, a tall man with a narrow face and dark hair, gave Kelly a nod before turning his eyes around the room. They landed on Alex, and a hand went to his jacket where his gun was undoubtedly stored. 

"Rick, it's okay." Kelly reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "She's with me." 

"Ms. Kline, she's a known conspirator with the Winchesters." However, Rick's shoulders loosened, and his hand fell back to his side. "Search the room," he ordered the two behind him. "President Rooney said to be careful if she shows up unannounced."

"He … should be expecting me," Alex said slowly, glancing at the closet as she pressed her lips shut.

"He said that you would try and contact him at some point." Rick moved towards her, and Alex drew her legs up as he knelt between the beds. "But he didn't say how or why." He lifted up the sheets and peered beneath the mattresses, grunting in approval when nothing caught his eye. "He spoke about you in a familiar sense. Like the two of you had met before." 

Rick rose to his feet, eyeing Alex as he did so with undisguised curiosity, and Alex dropped her gaze, spinning the bracelet around her wrist. "Not exactly," she mumbled. "We've been in contact since … since I broke things off with the Winchesters." She looked up through her eyelashes, teeth digging into her cheek as she waited, hoping that nothing Lucifer had said had contradicted her vague lie. Rick, however, said nothing as he crossed over to the hole Alex had put in the wall, fingers feeling along the inside of the plaster. Alex’s eyes darted past him to the other men. One stood by Kelly. The other had opened the first set of double doors and was tugging on the second set of handles; from the frown on his face, they appeared to be locked. 

The opening of the closet doors had Alex's head turning back. Castiel stood in plain sight, face void of emotion. Before Rick could react, he reached out, pressing two fingers into the man's forehead. "There's no one else in here but Alex and Kelly," he murmured. "Go wait in your car."

His hand fell away, and Rick stepped back, jaw moving as he silently repeated the given command. "It's clear," he announced, and the closet creaked as he closed the door. "Let's go." 

All three left, and Alex glanced back towards the closet. Her grace reached out — no. It didn't. Her mind went through the motions, but there was nothing to move. A phantom limb that had been ripped from her being. 

The effort of rising to her feet was more than she had expected, and she cradled her hand up against her chest as she met Kelly's eyes. Despite the outward facade of bravery, the faint tremble of her jaw and the paleness to her cheeks gave away the inner turmoil. Alex parted her lips, poised to speak, but a thought, a fear of being overheard by the archangel outside, had her remaining silent. Instead, all she offered was a half-hearted shrug. 

The jiggle of the door handle was the only warning the two had before it squeaked open. Kelly was quick to move forward, to hold the door for the man outside, and a quiet, "Kelly," came from just out of sight. Kelly stepped back, mouth open as if she wished to speak, but Lucifer brushed her aside as he moved into the room. At least, Alex thought it was Lucifer. No wings, no grace. Just a … person. Her chest contracted, breath hitching as she tried to hold back the noise, but it didn’t stop the pair of blue eyes that turned onto her. For a moment, all he did was stare; Alex forced herself to stay still beneath the weight of his gaze. And then one second, Lucifer was standing in front of Kelly, but the next … in a blink of the eye he was in front of her, brought there by a push of unseen wings. "Alex." His voice was as unreadable as his face, and Alex's jaw trembled as she searched his eyes for any sign of emotion. "I almost didn't recognize you." His gaze fell onto her swollen hand, cradled up against her chest, and this time, the emotion was all too vivid as his fade darkened. "What have they done to you?" 

He cupped her cheek, and Alex blinked as tears sprung to her eyes. Every word she had practiced, every scenario she had planned for, none of them had predicted this. She hadn't expected his concern, his touch. His skin, so cool against hers. The world blurred, and Alex swallowed back a choked-out sob as she leaned into his hand, eyes squeezed shut as she desperately tried to imagine the touch of his grace. But there was nothing. No chill of a mountain spring in her veins. Nothing to wrap her up and hold her safe. Just emptiness. 

There was a crash as the double doors were flung wide. Lucifer turned, but Alex clung to his hand, eyes shut to the world around her. For that brief moment, she could _feel_ him — she hadn't known his touch in so long that the coolness of his skin took her breath away. "Sam." The punched-out growl broke the illusion, and Alex reluctantly opened her eyes.

Sam Winchester stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he held out his hand. Something sat in his palm, an egg-shaped contraption the size of a football and laid in gold. " _Vade retro_." At his command, the object began to glow. The enochian sigils, carved into the metallic sides, lit up with a blue, pulsing light. Behind him, on the black paint of the door, a white-painted sigil was glowing red. " _Princeps inferni_."

"Sam, what is that —" Alex stepped forward to position herself between Sam and Lucifer, her one good hand held out defensively as Dean and Rowena stepped into view. The next thing she knew, Lucifer was pushing her back with an arm; without her grace, his strength swept her off of her feet, and she was only saved from crashing into the ground by Lucifer's other hand, wrapping firmly around her waist as he pivoted. Their eyes met for half a second, hers wide and his dark, and then he whipped back around, leaving her standing on shaky legs. "We've done this dance so many times," she heard Lucifer warn. "I think we both know how it ends." 

_Lucifer. Get out of here_. The sudden, forceful prayer had Lucifer's head spinning back around, and his irises glowed like molten iron as his eyes danced across her face, searching for … something. It was the intensity within them that took Alex aback, the barely disguised worry that creased his face. How could he hear her? "Please." Alex's spoken word was lost beneath the crack as the lightbulbs overhead shattered in a shower of glass and sparks. A sudden wind had picked up, tugging her hair over her face, and then —

She was falling. She hadn't seen Lucifer's palm drive into her sternum, sending her back to crash into the safety of the nearest bed, but she felt the air as it was crushed from her lungs. The wind was screaming now, threatening to draw her in towards the foreign object in Sam's hand, and it almost drowned out Dean's, "Rowena! Now!"

The wind whipped at her face, but Alex forced her eyes open to watch the streams of light surrounding the golden object plunge into Lucifer's chest. Light crept up his throat, peeking out through cracks in the skin, and Alex lifted a hand to shield her eyes. "This isn't over, Sam!" Lucifer spoke through a hoarse, broken voice, and Alex struggled up off of the bed. 

"Lucifer!" She stumbled forward, but Castiel's hand on her shoulder, as immovable as a stone, stopped her from advancing. Lucifer turned, and the room seemed to fall silent as their eyes met, grey on blue. And then his head fell back, eyes rolling upwards as white light exploded from his gaping jaws. It rose up through the air, twisting and coiling like a snake, and Alex ripped herself free from Castiel's hold. She threw herself forward, one hand stretched towards the light —

And screamed. The pain was fire, burning so hot it felt like ice. White clouded her vision, filling her skull until Alex thought it would explode, and time seemed to stop. She was falling, plummeting down through a frozen lake that had no bottom, sinking beneath the waves of agony. The next thing that she knew she was on the ground, staring at the carpet through glazed eyes. Jefferson Rooney lay just in front of her, his own eyes shut and his skin pale and drenched in sweat. _Lucifer_. Alex's lips parted, but she couldn't get her tongue to form the name. Where had he gone? 

Hands hauled her upwards to her knees, and Alex's head lolled back, eyes locked on Rooney. His chest was moving, short, shallow breaths; despite all appearances, he was alive. He was alive, and Lucifer … Alex forced her head up straight to find Castiel kneeling in front of her. For once, he seemed to have no reservations about looking her in the eye. "That was _stupid_." 

Alex recoiled at the sting to the seraph's words. She couldn't remember the last time he had snapped. Her gaze wanted to stray, and her chest ached, sraning as she tried to reach out with her phantom grace to search for Lucifer. He was gone.

Her hand still hurt. Not just hurt, it stung and throbbed, and Alex finally worked up the courage to drop her eyes to her lap. She had reached out with her left — the adrenaline and the haste had overridden the pain from the bruised and swollen bone — and now the deep throb sat alongside a newer pain, a bright and sharp sting that cut through her palm. With the greatest reluctance, Alex turned her hand over. The top layer of skin was simply gone, burned away, and the dermis beneath was bright red, a jagged and defined stripe that cut just above her thumb and was as thick as her wrist. 

Castiel's hand covering hers was the only thing that stopped a wave of nausea from sweeping up her throat, and Alex tore her eyes away. "You're lucky you didn't lose your hand," he added; the sharpness hadn't left, but his voice had lowered into a rumble. "Or your life. Touching that much raw celestial energy, it should have stopped your heart."The tips of his fingers brushed her palm, sending jolts along her exposed nerves, but when he pulled away, the pain was lessened, the redness less pronounced. 

“He wouldn't kill me," Alex mumbled, and she pulled her hand in close as Castiel shifted his attention from her to Jeff. Sam was still standing in the doorway, his chest heaving as he looked around, eyes wide. Behind him, smoke still drifted up from the table, partially obscured by Rowena. A snarl leapt from Alex's throat, pain-riddled and violent, and she lunged upwards. 

"Whoa!" Dean caught her before she could reach the witch, pinning her against his chest as Alex tried to wrench herself free. "Not today." His grip was unbreakable, only softening when Alex sagged back in defeat. "We gotta get out of here. No way those security guys didn't notice that." 

Crowley’s assent came as a hum and a nod towards Alex. "Are you boys good to babysit, or should I take custody?" 

Alex stared at Crowley as her mouth fell open, poised to snap, but no words came, and it was Sam who came to the rescue. "What? We're not _giving_ her to you. She stays with us." 

"Suit yourself." Crowley put his hand on Rowena's shoulder, and the two vanished into thin air.

He's alive." Castiel rose from beside Jefferson's unconscious form, and Alex felt Dean's grip loosen further as he turned his head; once again, she tried to tear herself free, but to no avail. "He won't remember a thing." His eyes turned onto Kelly, and Alex followed his gaze with an indignant snort. Kelly hadn't moved, still standing by the front door. Her eyes were wide and her lips were moving, repeating a single thought over and over again, but no sound emerged. "Kelly." 

"Oh my god." The sound of Castiel's voice opened the dam, and Kelly took a step forward on trembling legs. "Jeff? Oh my god." 

From outside, car doors slammed. Dean's arms fell away, and Alex jerked free. "Cas, get her out of here," she heard him say, and Sam added, "We gotta go. Take her and go." 

Jeff was stirring. Alex was halfway to him before she realized it, and her breath hitched as she dropped down at his side, steadying his head as his eyes flickered open. She knew it wasn't Lucifer — she had watched as he was ripped out into the air — but deep down, maybe … Her chest strained as she tried to summon her grace, but all she could feel was the man’s skin, warm to the touch. There was no recognition in those eyes. He didn't know her.

The door exploded inwards, kicked off of its hinges, and Alex shied away, curling over the man as the heavy door crashed into the carpet. "Mr. President!" A voice rang above the cocking of guns and the thud of footsteps. "Get on the ground! Hands on your head!" Hands grabbed Alex's jacket, yanking her back, and she shrieked as she was thrown face down onto the floor. There was scuffling beyond her, Sam's protests adding to the commotion, but Rick's shouts rose above it. "Shut up! You're under arrest for the attempted assassination of the President of the United States." 

A hand pressed her head down into the thin carpet, and Alex grunted as her arms were yanked behind her, pinned against her lower back as handcuffs clicked into place, resting just below her bracelet. The bonds were unforgiving, digging into her pale skin, and Alex sucked in a breath through her nose as the person above her drew away. Cuffed and captured again. She was yanked to her feet by a hand under her arm, but Alex kept her muscles loose as she slithered back down onto her knees. The president was already gone, hauled upwards and ushered away by one of the men to the safety of his car. Sam and Dean were still on the floor, their hands on the back of their heads as two of the black-suited men secured their wrists. 

Castiel and Kelly were nowhere in sight. Alex's head swiveled around, searching for any sign of them, but they had simply vanished — there. The doors to the adjoining room had been closed. They must have escaped through there. Apparently she and the Winchesters were not that lucky. 

Neither was Lucifer. That small sliver of hope that he had fled back into his vessel had been crushed the moment Rooney had opened his eyes. Would he remember all that Lucifer had put him through? Once again, someone tried to haul her upwards, but Alex stayed down, staring blankly at the floor. Powered down, bound and arrested. Was this how it would end, locked behind bars? Crowley had no reason to rescue her; Castiel had no resources. The only one who would have even tried was gone, banished back to hell. 

"Transport van is en route," she heard a voice by the door announce. "ETA ten minutes. And the President is secure. He's on his way back to the safehouse now."

Outside, sirens were screaming. Someone inside the room was responding, but Alex tuned out the voice, her eyes locked on the stain in the brown carpet. This was a mistake. She should have fled the minute Sam had called her, should have said yes the second Lucifer asked. But it was too late now.

She wasn't sure how many minutes she sat there, but it was the pair of hands under her arms that snapped her back into reality, yanking her up. "I said on your feet!" Rick's shout made her ears ring, and Alex let her eyes flicker over to the Winchesters. They were back on their feet, their expressions mirror images of hardened steel. Rick's nails dug into Alex's skin, and she bit back a hiss — the loss of her grace may have dampened her senses, but it had only heightened her sensitivity to pain. "Get them out of here." He shoved Alex towards the door. With her hands bound, it was all Alex could do to keep from stumbling. The Winchesters were following suit; a muttered, "watch it," from Dean was met with a hand to his shoulder, and he fell silent with a grunt. 

The air outside was bright, the sun already rising high above the treelines. After the darkness of the motel room, with its shades drawn, Alex found herself shying away from the light, eyes screwed up as she waited for them to adjust. It only took a few seconds, but in that short span of time she still found herself being pushed forward, guided none-too-gently off of the wooden porch and down onto the asphalt. A large grey van sat there, the back doors open to reveal a line of benches beneath barred windows. 

"Get those two inside," she heard Rick order, and a pair of hands pushed Alex back towards the curb to make room for Sam and Dean. Dean's head was held high, face darkened in a scowl as he kept his sights on the truck, but Sam's eyes found Alex as he was led past. The look lasted barely a second before he disappeared behind a black-suited guard, but Alex knew that the distraught hopelessness in his gaze was mirrored on her face. She watched as the two slid into the back of the van, their arms pinned between their backs and the solid metal wall.

A hand found her shoulder, nudging her forward, but Rick spoke before she could take a step. "Hold up." The hand fell away, and Alex squared her jaw as she forced herself to look behind her. "Crawford, Swanson, take them. Alex and I will follow." He put his hand on her shoulder as he nodded off to the right, and Alex followed his gaze to the second van that sat just past the first. Her stomach twisted, and she cast an uneasy look back towards Sam and Dean. Why was she being separated?

The look the Winchesters shared was lost to her as the two men Rick had named shut and locked the doors, exchanging a single word between them before they circled around to the front cab. The vehicle rumbled to life, axles creaking as it rolled away, but Alex was already being bustled forward before it was out of sight. The second van's doors had opened, and with a quick look around at the armored guards that surrounded the motel, Alex scrambled up to sit on the metal benches, determined to do so without the help of those around her. Even still, her eyes flickered towards the road, where the back of the transport truck was still barely visible. "I could have ridden with them," she dared to say as she settled down, shifting on the cold, hard bench. "There was enough room." 

Rick climbed in, pausing only long enough to issue one last command to those outside before he sat down across from her. His eyes moved across her face, acknowledging her question with a small quirk of his lips, but he took the time to stow his gun away. "I do my best to keep co-conspirators as far apart from each other as possible," he said, and the heavy door swung shut with a clang. "Especially ones with such … extensive reputations such as yours. Don't worry, you'll see them one last time before we reach the black site." The doors locked with a click, and Alex shifted as the van jerked forward down the road. 

It picked up speed as it turned onto the main two-way street, and Alex dropped her eyes to her lap, swaying in time with the truck. The rhythm was slow, almost hypnotic, until the entire cabin shuddered and rocked. The small compartment plunged into darkness, a swirling, burning haze that filled the air one second and then vanished the next, sucked into Rick's mouth until it flooded his eyes black. Alex's head struck the wall behind her as she jerked back, and the demon across from her worked his jaw until the blackness filtered away from his gaze. "There we go. Home sweet home." 

“ _Exorcizamus te —_ ”

The breath was sucked from her lungs, leaving Alex gasping. “Don’t bother.” Rick’s fist was held out, tightly clenched, and only when he released his fingers did air flood back into her mouth. “You know, I was starting to think Rick wasn't gonna get you alone for me.” 

“So are you gonna get me out of here or not?” Alex shifted on the bench until her cuffs clanked against the metal sides. “Well?” she snapped when the demon merely cocked an eyebrow. “Either Crowley sent you or you’re here cause of Lucifer, so hurry up about it.” 

“I’m not here because of either.” Black seeped through the demon’s eyes as he chuckled. “Let's be honest here. Ever since Crowley set his sights on working with you, he’s been weak. And Lucifer … well, we all know what he thinks of demons. No, I’m here for you.” He reached up to feel the stubble on his jaw, and he scowled. “Rexford, Idaho. Instead of killing that werewolf Crowley sent you after and going home, you decided to come after me. Remember that night? You spent two hours cutting me into pieces and burying me in the dirt. Who knows how long I would have stayed down there had a couple of kids not dug me up.” 

He bared his teeth, barely holding back a snarl, and Alex leaned back until her head was pressed up against the wall. She was unable to stop her eyes from widening, and she felt her heart skip a beat within her chest. _Oh._ “J-Jackson, right? I didn’t think you’d be topside for another few years.” _And I thought I’d have my grace._

“Got out just in time to learn that Lucifer was walking the earth again. And that you were hiding under his shadow.” The demon’s lip curled, and just when Alex thought he was going to spit in disgust, his face smoothed. “That's right, I was called Jackson back then. But go ahead and call me Rick. I’ll be in this body for a long time, so I may as well get used to its name.” Alex felt the blood drain away from her cheeks, and Rick’s eyes narrowed as he smirked. “What can I say? I was starting to lose hope when I learned you had gotten your grace back, but I have to give credit where credit is due. Those Winchesters not only pulled out your teeth and tossed that mutt back into the hole where he belongs, but they got you arrested by the USSS.” Rick leaned forward with a flash of his teeth. “You better get used to me, little girl, because I’m the only face you’re gonna see for the rest of your life.”


End file.
